


Just Want You Back for Good

by hollycomb



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode: s03e13 Ghostfacers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-25
Updated: 2013-08-25
Packaged: 2017-12-24 15:19:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/941483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollycomb/pseuds/hollycomb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU -- Corbett doesn't actually die in the Morton house, but Ed has to deal with his memories of seeing it happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Want You Back for Good

What happens at the Morton house changes everything. They all had to watch Corbett die over and over again, and even Corbett, who missed out on the illusion Daggett created, comes away from the experience more quiet and serious than he was before. He begs Ed and Harry to show him the footage they shot, and though it wounds Ed's pride to admit it he's glad to be able to tell Corbett that everything they shot got erased by the electromagnet.  
  
“I can't believe I missed the whole thing,” Corbett says, but Ed can tell he's kind of glad. Corbett was unconscious in the bomb shelter along with Sam Winchester during the ordeal. Apparently, Daggett got off on appropriating already-dead people so much that he didn't want to kill them himself, so he made it seem as if Corbett was dead in the hopes that Sam and Dean would hurriedly salt and burn his unconscious body to save him from his echo. Not the smartest move, really, and none of them were able to figure out how Ed telling Corbett's fake ghost that he loved him turned the illusion around on Daggett and destroyed him.  
  
Ed is really glad that they don't have that part on tape, actually. Though the footage could have made his whole career, he wants to forget it. Every night since the Morton house he dreams it all over again: the look on Corbett's face as he died slowly, painfully. The illusion came so close to driving him over the edge that he might have tossed the match to Corbett's body himself just to save him from that agony.  
  
Maggie and Harry are changed, too, mostly in the sense that they are suddenly inseparable, walking around Ed's house with post-coital hair and gooey smiles that make him sick. He's happy for them, kind of, but he doesn't like the idea of Harry putting his hands on his sister, and it's put kind of a strain on their friendship, because all Harry wants to do is talk about Maggie, and Ed doesn't want to hear it.  
  
“Have you ever noticed that, like, when she thinks something is really funny, she does this kind of _pause_ thing where she has this little embarrassed smile before she'll really let herself laugh? Ed? You know what I mean?”  
  
Ed tries to ignore Harry, bent over his computer in the basement of his parents' house and researching sites for their next Ghostfacers job. Nothing is catching his interest, and the ones that seem full of real potential make him pause now, because what if Corbett, or one of the other members of the team, really _had_ died? He would have been responsible, and it's been bothering him every day since the Morton house, even though they all managed to escape with their lives. He can't quite accept the fact that Corbett isn't really gone, and during their meetings he has to force himself not to stare at Corbett, or grab his wrist to take his pulse.  
  
“It's like the other night, when we were watching this movie on her laptop, you know, in bed together –”  
  
“Harry, shut up!” Ed shouts, whirling around to glare at him. “I don't want to hear about anything you do in bed with my sister.”  
  
“Jesus, it's not like I'm talking about boning her!”  
  
“Fuck, Harry!” Ed picks up an empty CD case that was sitting beside his keyboard and pitches it at Harry, who ducks.  
  
“God!” Harry shouts. “Will you fucking relax? You're so testy since the whole Morton house thing.”  
  
“The 'whole Morton house thing?' You say it like it was some mildly annoying evening – Jesus, Harry, we all could have died! Corbett – that thing, what he made us see – don't you think about it?”  
  
Harry raises his eyebrows slowly, and Ed regrets saying anything. The whole team is constantly teasing him about his “love” for Corbett now, fortunately not when Corbett is present, but it still infuriates him. And maybe he is a little testy lately, but it's mostly because he can't sleep, he's too haunted by the way Corbett's eyes bugged out when he was murdered in the illusion. Ed had never seen anyone look scared like that, like he knew he was dying, that no one would help him, and even though it was fake, a trick designed by a real ghost to make Ed and the others crazy enough to kill for him, it's dimmed his interest in hunting down scary things.  
  
“Maybe you should talk to a therapist, dude,” Harry says. “I could give you Dr. Bederman's number.”  
  
“I'm not going to see your fucking therapist, Harry.” Ed turns back to the computer.  
  
“Man, don't knock it until you try it! Dr. B has really helped me, you know that. Just the other day he was telling me that my dreams about having sex in public mean that –”  
  
“Stop! What did I just tell you about your fucking sex life and how I don't want to hear about it?”  
  
“Yeah, but this is not about Maggie!”  
  
“Oh, so you're cheating on my sister in your dreams?”  
  
The doorbell sounds upstairs and Ed groans, though he's glad to get out of this conversation. He jogs upstairs to see who it is, leaving Harry in the basement. Maggie is in class and Ed's parents are both at work, which is where he should be, too, but he lost his job at Kinko's last week when he messed up a rush order, so sleep-deprived that he didn't even realize he was printing conference schedules on pastel pink paper.  
  
He opens the door, and the same uncanny, tingling feeling that moves through him whenever he sees Corbett makes him stammer for a moment. It's disturbing, seeing someone whose murder he witnessed over and over perfectly healthy and standing before him, and particularly disturbing today, because Corbett's face is splotchy and wet with tears.  
  
“What's wrong?” Ed asks, grabbing for Corbett's arm without thinking. He keeps catching himself touching the poor guy now, for proof that he's solid, and he's noticed that Maggie and even Harry do it, too.  
  
“Nothing.” Corbett tries to laugh at himself, sniffling. “Just, um. Can I come in?”  
  
“Yeah, of course.” Ed steps aside and guides Corbett into the house, still holding onto his arm. He makes himself let go as they stand in the foyer, Corbett wiping fresh tears from his eyes. Ed spent so many hours in the Morton house feeling responsible for Corbett's death, so guilt-wrecked that he wanted to die himself, and it still weighs on him. He finds himself wanting to apologize to Corbett all the time, and he keeps telling Corbett that he doesn't need to cater to the Ghostfacers' snack and drink whims during meetings anymore, but Corbett just smiles and tells him he doesn't mind.  
  
“What happened?” Ed asks. “Are you – are you having flashbacks or something? Did you see how you died? I mean – fake died – I've been worried about this, like maybe he left some remnant of it in you –”  
  
“No, nothing like that.” Corbett sniffles and wipes his face with his sleeve. He's such a big, jock-ish guy, and Ed is surprised almost every time Corbett opens his mouth, because he doesn't look like the type of guy who would have turned out so soft and thoughtful and, well. In love with Ed, if that's still true.  
  
“I came out to my parents,” Corbett says. He winces and sobs once, then bites down hard on his shaking lip. “I – I've been going through a lot s-stuff since the whole – since you guys thought I was dead, and I thought, I should live my life like I could die at any moment, you know, because I could. And so I told them.” He hiccups another sob. “They, um. Threw me out. Told me not to come back.”  
  
“Oh, Jesus,” Ed says, the guilt crushing his chest. He might not have gotten Corbett killed but apparently he's had a hand in ruining his life. Corbett breaks down and sits on the stairs that lead up to the second floor of the house, his hands over his face as his shoulders jerk with sobs.  
  
“Oh, man, hey, it's okay,” Ed says, though he can't even imagine what Corbett is feeling right now, that level of rejection. He sits down beside him and slips an arm around his shoulders, hugging Corbett's big, solid body against his own. It's still a comfort, being able to have visceral proof that his hand won't just slide through Corbett, and he doesn't even mind that much when Corbett leans onto him and presses his wet face to Ed's neck.  
  
“They hate me,” Corbett cries. He's flushed with emotion and embarrassment, trembling. Ed tries to stop reveling in how _alive_ Corbett feels and sighs, patting his knee.  
  
“They don't hate you,” Ed says, though for all he knows, they do. He really knows nothing about Corbett's family life, and not much at all about Corbett himself, something that's made him feel extremely guilty since the Morton house.  
  
“They said I was – a, a disappointment and –”  
  
“Hey, Corbett, they're just in shock. They didn't mean that, I'm sure they already feel bad –”  
  
Corbett shakes his head. “My dad, the way he looked at me,” he says, and then he breaks into sobs again, clutching at Ed in a way that should make him extremely uncomfortable, given Corbett's feelings for him, but some part of him must have been craving this since they first discovered Corbett and Sam alive in the bomb shelter, because being able to comfort him feels really good, like something Ed's been needing. He rubs Corbett's back and tries not to get too much satisfaction out of the feeling of Corbett's hot tears on his skin. The poor guy is really suffering, but this will pass, and he's _alive_. Ed still can't believe it after what he saw: Corbett is alive, right here in his arms.  
  
“Whoa,” Harry says, appearing suddenly in the doorway that leads down to the basement. Ed's face gets hot, and he sits up a little straighter. Great. Like Harry and the others don't already give him a hard enough time for what he said to Corbett's fake ghost, the thing that sent Daggett to hell somehow. Corbett sits up and wipes at his face, and Ed lets his arm slide off of his back, leaving their shoulders pressed together. As nice as it is to see evidence that Corbett is still flesh and blood, seeing him in distress like this is bringing back a lot of bad memories.  
  
“Hey, Harry,” Corbett says, sniffling. “I just – I'm sorry, you guys. I don't really have anywhere else to go. Most of my friends aren't as, like, cool and accepting of – different kinds of people as you guys are. I couldn't explain this to them.”  
  
“What happened?” Harry asks. His eyes bug out. “Oh, shit, have you started hallucinating your death?”  
  
“No,” Corbett says. He tugs at his sleeve as if he doesn't really want to tell Harry what's going on, and Ed feels weirdly honored to be the one who Corbett trusts, though he shouldn't be surprised, since apparently Corbett is in love with him.  
  
“I – my parents threw me out,” Corbett says. His crying jag seems to have passed, and he's wiping at his face, which is red and puffy, like he's been crying for awhile.  
  
“Threw you out!” Harry says, practically shouting, tactless as usual. “What for?”  
  
“What do you think, Harry?” Ed snaps. He gives him a look that tells him to let it lie, and Harry scratches at his head.  
  
“Geez, that sucks, man,” Harry says. “So, you're, like – homeless?”  
  
“Harry!” Ed shouts.  
  
“What?”  
  
“You can't just – call people homeless!” Ed puts his arm around Corbett's shoulders again. Poor guy. He doesn't deserve any of this, and would have been better off if he'd never seen that flyer at the mall. Corbett was one of five people Ed and Harry interviewed for the intern position, and they picked him because he wasn't a goth dweeb or spastic weirdo like so many of the losers they'd hung out with in high school. Corbett was good-looking and smiley and they both agreed after his initial interview that he was basically a golden retriever in human form. Just the kind of person they'd been hoping to get: someone who would let them boss him around and who could carry the heavy equipment.  
  
“I was actually kind of hoping, um, that maybe I could stay on the couch in the Ghostfacers headquarters for a little while?” Corbett says. The Ghostfacers headquarters is basically just Ed and Maggie's basement, and there's a beat-up old couch along the wall, across from Ed's computer. He's crashed there at night plenty of times himself, too tired after hours of research to make it up the stairs.  
  
“Yeah, of course,” Ed says. “My parents are totally cool with gay people. They'll love you.”  
  
Corbett smiles, and Ed blanches a little when he realizes he just said the l-word to Corbett again. But it wasn't the real Corbett he said it to, and the real Corbett will never know. Even Spruce wouldn't be so low as to tell Corbett what Ed did to dispel Daggett. It would be unfair to toy with the guy's emotions like that. As far as Corbett knows, Dean was the one responsible for getting rid of Daggett, with salt-filled, ghost-repelling bullets.  
  
“Thanks, Ed,” Corbett says softly. He sniffles and looks over at Harry, who is staring at Ed and Corbett in a way that makes Ed take his arm away from Corbett.  
  
“Uh, Ed, can I talk to you for a minute?” Harry says, and Ed glares at him.  
  
“Not now, Harry.”  
  
“It's okay,” Corbett says. He stands up and sighs heavily. “I – I think I'm gonna go out and buy some clothes and toiletries and stuff before my dad cancels my credit card. I didn't get a chance to take any of my stuff before I – left.”  
  
“Do you want us to come with you?” Ed asks. He doesn't like the idea of Corbett being alone while he's vulnerable like this. He's afraid, all the time now, that the universe is going to course correct and take Corbett away for real, even though Daggett's trick was just an illusion, not an actual death that Corbett came back from.  
  
“That's okay,” Corbett says. “I think I could use some time by myself, actually, to collect my thoughts.” He smiles sadly and heads for the door. Ed follows him, dreading the feeling he always gets when Corbett leaves. Ever since the Morton house, it's like having a rib ripped out at first, losing the opportunity to just look over and see proof that Corbett didn't die because of him.  
  
When Corbett is gone, Ed turns to Harry, already steeling himself for what he knows is coming.  
  
“Um,” Harry says, his eyes going wide.  
  
“Don't,” Ed says. He walks past Harry and into the kitchen. “I don't want to hear it. The poor guy just went through something traumatic, and he feels like he's all alone. I'm just trying to be a good friend.”  
  
“Since when are you and Corbett even really _friends_ , though?” Harry asks. He follows Ed into the kitchen and watches him slam through the cabinets, looking for something to snack on, though suddenly nothing sounds appetizing. His stomach hurts, a little.  
  
“I mean, he was just our intern, before the Morton house,” Harry says. “I'm glad he's not dead and everything, but since we got back it's like you're – you're –”  
  
“What, Harry?” Ed asks, shouting. “And why are you so threatened by me becoming friends with him? Maybe the whole ordeal made me realize that we'd been treating him pretty shittily, okay?”  
  
“He's our intern!” Harry says, throwing out his arms. “He's supposed to wait on us. He likes it!”  
  
“Fine, but we can still treat him like a person, maybe get to know him a little better.”  
  
“I don't know, Ed, I don't know. You're – hugging him, letting him move in to your house, talking about getting to know him a little better –”  
  
“Go ahead and make the stupid gay joke, it's not like I haven't heard a million of them already.”  
  
“I'm not really joking,” Harry says. He rolls his eyes. “And I know you're not really a homo. But, look, maybe you're kind of leading him on? If you're all worried about his super special feelings, you'd better be careful about the signals you're giving him.”  
  
“Oh, God,” Ed mutters. His face is burning, and he hides it in the fridge. “Thanks for the professional advice, Dr. Bederman. You're right, I should have just turned him out on his ass and told him to get me a coffee while he's at it.”  
  
“What are you guys fighting about?” Maggie asks, coming in to the kitchen behind them. Ed and Harry both jump and gasp, and Maggie does, too, when she sees their reactions. Everyone's been a little on edge since the Morton house.  
  
“I didn't hear you come in,” Ed says as Harry zips across the kitchen to glue himself to Maggie.  
  
“Guess what?” Harry says. He leans down to kiss Maggie's neck, and she giggles. Ed groans and pulls a beer from the fridge.  
  
“You're about to have a new roommate,” Harry says to Maggie. “Or housemate, I guess.”  
  
“Oh yeah?” Maggie frowns. “Who's moving in?” She looks at Harry as if to tell him that if he thinks her parents will be okay with him sleeping in her room every night, he's wrong.  
  
“Not _me_ ,” Harry says. “Ed's boyfriend.”  
  
“What?” Maggie boggles at Ed. “Corbett?”  
  
“I love that she hears 'Ed's boyfriend' and immediately knows I'm talking about Corbett,” Harry says, beaming.  
  
“It's not funny, Harry,” Ed says. He groans and looks at Maggie. “Corbett came out to his parents and they reacted really badly. They threw him out of the house.”  
  
“Oh!” Maggie gasps and puts her hand over her mouth. Harry is trying to work his tongue into her ear, and she shoves him away. “Poor Corbett! Where is he?”  
  
“He just left to buy some clothes and stuff. He didn't even get to pack a bag or anything. He was in pretty bad shape.”  
  
“Ed comforted him,” Harry says. “Physically.”  
  
“Shut up, Harry.” Ed looks at Maggie; she's gaping at him. “I hugged him,” Ed says, holding up his hands. “That's all.”  
  
“Aww, Ed.” Maggie smiles. “That's sweet. If I had been here, I would have hugged him, too.”  
  
“Well, I was totally gonna hug him,” Harry says. “But Ed was over there clinging to him for dear life, so I didn't really get the chance.”  
  
Maggie makes an irritable noise and smacks Harry's shoulder, but then she smiles at him and they swoon toward each other, which is Ed's cue to leave. He goes back down to the basement, finishes his beer at the computer and begins straightening the place up a little, making it livable for Corbett. It's already pretty tidy, since Corbett is good about whisking away their empty soda cans and mac and cheese bowls during meetings. Ed has really never met anyone like Corbett, and he thinks about this as he gathers pillows and blankets for the couch. Corbett is a pretty boy whose wealthy father bought him a Land Rover and gave him a credit card, and instead of cruising the gay social scene, or whatever young gay guys do, he's hanging out with the Ghostfacers, bringing them drinks and carrying their equipment. Harry would say that it's all because he has a crush on Ed, but Corbett has always been kind to the others, too, even when they antagonize him.  
  
Corbett comes back a little over an hour later, when Ed is watching TV in the living room, trying not to think about what Harry and Maggie are doing upstairs. He's glad to see Corbett, for that first thrill of remembering that he's alive, and also because he's feeling kind of lonely himself. Spruce is working full time now and is almost never around unless they're shooting an actual episode, and Harry, his best friend in the world since he was seven years old, is now preoccupied with Maggie full time.  
  
“I hope I didn't forget anything,” Corbett says as he follows Ed down to the basement with his shopping bags full of supplies. “I'm sure he'll cancel the card soon. And I wanted to tell you, Ed, I'll get a real job as soon as I can find one, and I'll pay your parents rent, and give them money toward food and utilities –”  
  
“Corbett, buddy, don't worry about all that,” Ed says. “Just consider yourself our guest for now, okay? I'm sure after your parents get over the initial shock they'll be begging you to come home.”  
  
“You don't know them,” Corbett says with a scoff. “Especially my dad – I, I'll just crash here until I've saved up enough to rent my own place. Don't worry. I'm not a freeloader.”  
  
“Of course you're not. Look, here, I got you a pillow and stuff, it gets pretty cold down here at night so here's some blankets – see this one? My grandma knitted this for Maggie when my parents first brought her home. It's really warm. Oh, and I'll get you some towels, there's a shower in the bathroom down here – do you need shampoo and stuff?”  
  
“I bought some,” Corbett says. He smiles. “Ed. You're being really great. I really appreciate it.”  
  
“Yeah, no problem.” Ed laughs at himself and scratches at the back of his neck. “It's just, you know. I've told you. What we saw in the Morton house – it was pretty fucking horrible. And I felt – and I still kind of feel, I guess – responsible. For you.”  
  
Corbett's face changes, his eyes lighting up with what might be hope, and Ed knows he should be heeding Harry's warning. It would only hurt Corbett to feed his crush, but for some reason that's all Ed has wanted to do since the Morton house, maybe because doing it there made _magic_ happen, basically. Something that even Sam and Dean couldn't explain.  
  
“You still won't tell me how I died?” Corbett says.  
  
“No.” Ed shakes his head hard. “Just – please, Corbett, quit asking me about it. It's over, and it was never real anyway.”  
  
“It must have been pretty bad if you're still this shaken up.” Corbett takes a step closer. To Ed, sometimes the weirdest part of the idea that Corbett has a crush on him is the fact Corbett is taller than him. It just seems not _allowed_ , a guy like Corbett looking at a guy like him this way. Ed doesn't understand where Corbett's feelings for him even came from; he's not a bad looking guy, but girls have never exactly fallen at his feet. He's only ever had one real girlfriend in his entire life, and that was back in high school.  
  
“It was bad,” Ed says. “Let's just leave it at that.”  
  
Corbett nods and smiles; he's always willing to do whatever Ed says. Ed tries to maintain a purely anthropological interest in this phenomenon, casually investigating the reasons. Harry claims that some gay guys 'just like bears' and that if Corbett is a golden retriever Ed is a teddy bear. Ed doesn't like this explanation at all.  
  
“Are you ready for the 'Facers meeting tonight?” Corbett asks. “I got some snacks for everybody, you know, as a thank you for you letting me stay here.”  
  
“Corbett, you don't have to pay for the snacks yourself.” Ed stops himself before adding _You're homeless_. He sighs as Corbett pulls out a box of Rice Krispies and a can of marshmallow fluff.  
  
“It's okay, it's my dad's money, anyway,” Corbett says. “I thought I could make Rice Krispie squares. If it's okay to use your kitchen?”  
  
“Jesus, Corbett. Of course it's okay. Here, I'll help you.”  
  
Corbett laughs. “You don't have to help,” he says. “You've got stuff to get ready for the meeting, right?”  
  
“Ah – I guess.” Ed actually has no idea what they'll talk about at the meeting. His site-hunting inspiration is nil, and Harry and Maggie are too busy doing things Ed doesn't want to think about to help him come up with potential investigations. Frankly, he'd rather be upstairs making fucking Rice Krispie treats with Corbett than alone in the basement trying to muster up some interest in the thing he once loved more than anything else.  
  
Still, he resists the temptation to follow Corbett upstairs, because Harry is right, he needs to put a little distance between himself and Corbett before things get out of hand. He clicks through all the familiar websites about hauntings in the area, looking for anything within a three or four hour radius of his hometown, but all he sees when he looks at the eerie pictures that others have taken of abandoned buildings and old graveyards is Corbett in pain, dying because of Ed's dreams of fame, because of Ed.  
  
Finally, he can't take it anymore and goes upstairs. Corbett is talking with someone, and Ed assumes it's Maggie before turning the corner and seeing that it's his mother, who apparently has loaned Corbett one of her aprons.  
  
“Hey, Ed,” Corbett says. He looks happy, which is something, considering how he was earlier. “The Rice Krispie treats are almost ready.”  
  
“I was telling your friend: I haven't had those in years!” Ed's mother says. “Your grandma used to make them for me.”  
  
“Oh.” Ed feels kind of stunned, and he's not sure why. He goes to the fridge for another beer, and his mother makes a disapproving sound.  
  
“How'd the job search go today?” she asks. Ed grunts and pops the beer open.  
  
“The economy's bad right now, Mom.”  
  
“Did you even apply for anything?”  
  
“Yes,” Ed says, lying. “Did Corbett tell you about – his situation?”  
  
“He did.” Ed's mother makes a sympathetic face at Corbett. “And I told him he was welcome to stay here as long as he needs to. It'll be good to get to know some of Eddie's – other friends.”  
  
As opposed to Harry, who his parents have never liked, which makes the fact that Maggie is suddenly in love with him kind of difficult, but they don't know about that yet, and Ed's mother definitely doesn't know that Harry is up there dozing post-coitally in Maggie's bed at this very moment.  
  
“Thanks so much, Mrs. Zeddmore,” Corbett says. He's blushing; growing up rich must make it hard to take handouts.  
  
“Please, call me Ann,” Ed's mother says, and Ed feels kind of dizzy. It's something about the sight of Corbett in his mother's apron, probably. He sits down at the kitchen table and takes a long drink of beer.  
  
“Where's Dad?” Ed asks.  
  
“Working late as usual. Does Maggie have a friend over?”  
  
Ed feels sympathetic panic for Maggie and Harry: they must not know that Ed's mother is home. They're up there laughing like idiots, stomping around.  
  
“It's just Harry,” Ed says. “They're working on some Ghostfacers stuff.”  
  
“Oh, what do you have them working on?” Corbett asks brightly, and Ed would smack his forehead if he could. Corbett can be kind of slow on the uptake at times. He widens his eyes, and Corbett's mouth quirks as he realizes what's going on.  
  
“Are they analyzing the Morton house data?” Corbett asks, winking. Ed barely holds in a snort of laughter.  
  
“Yeah,” he says. “The Morton house.” He doesn't even like saying the name of that place, and saying the name of the ghost who tried to get them to murder Corbett for him is even harder.  
  
“What's the Morton house?” Ed's mother asks. She already looks disapproving. “You haven't been trespassing again, have you?”  
  
“No,” Ed says. “We – it was abandoned. Anyway, nothing much happened there.” He gives Corbett a sympathetic look, feeling bad for the lie. Corbett smiles.  
  
“Yeah, it was totally boring,” he says.  
  
“I wish you boys would do something more constructive with your time,” Ed's mother says.  
  
“You don't believe in ghosts, Mrs. Zeddmore – I mean, Ann?” Corbett says, and Ed cringes. He's getting really tired of hashing this out with his parents, who have accused him of corrupting Maggie with his interest in the paranormal.  
  
“Well, Corbett, it's impossible to disprove the existence of ghosts, but no, I generally do not subscribe to the theory that they exist.” She gives Ed a look. His mother is a high school biology teacher and she doesn't consider what Ed does to be even remotely scientific.  
  
“So what would you say if Ed caught one on tape?” Corbett asks. He grins at Ed, and Ed feels a little sick to his stomach, thinking of those tapes that were erased, what life would be like if they hadn't been. People might have written it off as a prank, but not after meeting Corbett. He's the one they would have believed if the 'Facers got famous, the one people would want to listen to. One look at his face and it's obvious that it would never even occur to him to lie about anything.  
  
“If Ed caught a ghost on tape.” His mother sighs. “Well, I suppose I would have to concede the argument then.”  
  
“And listen to me tell you I told you so for the rest of your life,” Ed says.  
  
“Well.” His mother gives him a long-suffering look. “Perhaps. But I'm not holding my breath.”  
  
She leaves the kitchen and Ed gets another beer. Maybe if he's drunk for the Ghostfacers meeting he'll be able to conjure up some enthusiasm, or at least not be such a pussy about possibly investigating something again someday. He stands next to Corbett and watches him cut the tray of Rice Krispie treats into squares.  
  
“That was a nice save about Harry and Maggie's – research,” Ed says. “Thanks.”  
  
“No problem! I had no idea your mom didn't know about them.”  
  
“Yeah, Harry is not her favorite. He's not my favorite right now, either, really. I don't know why I just didn't let her catch them.”  
  
“Are you and Harry fighting?”  
  
“No. I don't know. Not really. He's just kind of done with me, you know? It's like he's moved on to Maggie now.” Ed has been pretty lonely since the Morton house, when Maggie and Harry had what they claimed to be their first kiss.  
  
“He's just excited to have a girlfriend,” Corbett says. “He'll calm down about the whole thing soon, I bet.”  
  
“Right.” Ed grins when Corbett lifts a Rice Krispie square from the pan and offers it to him. “Thanks.” It's pretty tasty. Corbett has always been a good cook. He watches Ed for a reaction and Ed raises his eyebrows.  
  
“It's good,” he says. “You're awesome, you know that?”  
  
Corbett laughs and looks down at the pan, blushing. Ed shouldn't have said that, but he can't help it. He's pretty sure anybody would feel this way if they blamed themselves for someone's death and then got a second chance like this.  
  
“What would your mom say if I told her a ghost kidnapped me and knocked me out?” Corbett asks.  
  
“She'd probably just think you were nuts, so don't tell her that.” Ed's heart beats a little faster; he still hasn't interviewed Corbett about the experience properly. He tells himself that he doesn't want to make Corbett relive the trauma, but he's the one who was traumatized; Corbett was lying in a heap on the floor of the bomb shelter with Sam Winchester the whole time. He missed all the lowlights.  
  
Ed helps Corbett carry down the refreshments for the meeting and goes back to his computer, wondering what he'll tell the others when they assemble. He doesn't want to disband the Ghostfacers, but he's not sure he wants to chase ghosts anymore, either, not with the fact that he could lose a member of his team at any time always in the back of his mind.  
  
“Hey, Corbett,” he says as he's looking at ghost hunting message boards, scrolling through them too quickly to really read anything. “What do you want to do with your life?”  
  
Corbett laughs. “I don't know,” he says. “I have a degree in political science. Maybe something with that?”  
  
“Yeah, you'd be a good politician. Or a lawyer, you'd be a good lawyer, people would, like, believe that you're honest. I thought I'd figured out what I wanted to do with my life, you know, what I was really passionate about. Now, I don't know.”  
  
“What's wrong?” Corbett asks. He drags one of the folding chairs over and sits beside Ed at the desk. “You don't want to be a professional paranormal investigator anymore? Is it because of me?”  
  
“Because of –?”  
  
“Because you – thought you saw something really bad happening to me? 'Cause it wasn't that bad, Ed, I mean, I was really scared, but then he knocked me out, and the next thing I knew I was waking up to everyone shouting and crying and hugging me like they couldn't believe I was alive.” He smirks. “That part was kind of – nice, actually.”  
  
Ed remembers that part. He'd thrown his arms around Corbett's uninjured neck and hadn't let go until Dean and Sam were dragging them all out of the house.  
  
“Forget it,” Ed says, turning back to the computer. “I'm just – I just have to be more careful about the situations I get my team into. It's just hard to know. I was so – sort of smug before, thinking we'd be okay.”  
  
“Yeah, but we were okay,” Corbett says. “I'm okay, Ed, really. And if Dean saved us with salt bullets, why don't we just get some of those?”  
  
Ed opens his mouth, not sure how he'll respond, and he's glad when he hears Maggie and Harry thundering down the stairs. Maggie has combed her post-sex hair back into place, but Harry is wearing his with pride.  
  
“Ed!” Maggie hisses, slapping his shoulder. “You didn't tell me Mom was home already!”  
  
“Well, what was I going to do, burst into your room to inform you? I didn't want to interrupt – anything. Anyway, don't worry. Corbett covered for you.”  
  
“Oh, Corbett!” Maggie rushes over to hug him. “Ed told me what happened. I'm so sorry!”  
  
“It's okay,” Corbett says. He's blushing again; he kind of does that a lot. “I'm just glad you guys are letting me stay here. I don't know what I'd do without you.” He pulls back and smiles, and Maggie gives him a sympathetic look. Harry looks a little annoyed by their proximity, and walks over to put his hands on Maggie's hips.  
  
“What smells good?” Harry asks. “Ooh, Rice Krispie treats!” He dives toward the plate of them and stuffs one in his mouth.  
  
“Corbett made them,” Ed says, and Harry nods, chewing. “Why don't you thank him?” Ed says, narrowing his eyes a little.  
  
“Thanks, man,” Harry says, with his mouthful, slapping Corbett's back. “I really worked up an appetite this afternoon, gotta tell you.”  
  
“Jesus!” Ed says, and Maggie giggles.  
  
“We need to get Ed a girlfriend so he'll stop harshing our buzz,” Harry says. Ed groans and pretends to be busy on the computer.  
  
“Don't say 'harshing our buzz." He wishes Harry would take his own advice and be more sensitive about Corbett's feelings. He shouldn't go around flaunting the idea of Ed having a girlfriend. Ed sneaks a look at Corbett. He's busying himself with arranging soda cans on the table beside the sofa.  
  
“Speaking of that,” Maggie says. “Nicki was asking about you today in class, Ed.”  
  
Maggie is getting a computer science degree from the local community college, and a couple of months ago Ed hooked up with one of her classmates. Nicki is a wiccan, and Ed was able to charm her with his extensive paranormal knowledge. He was pretty drunk by the time they had sex, but her porn-star vocalizing still annoyed him. He hasn't called her since, and in general it's not a good memory.  
  
“Tell her I moved to Guatemala,” Ed says.  
  
Spruce arrives late as usual, and he seems kind of stoned. Ed wishes he was as the room falls quiet and the four other Ghostfacers all turn to him, waiting to hear what he has planned. He drums his hands on his knees and takes a deep breath.  
  
“Sam and Dean,” he says. They stare at him, waiting for more. Maggie is leaning against Harry on the couch, Corbett is sitting Indian-style on the floor, and Spruce is splayed in Ed's father's beat up old armchair, looking like he might drift off to sleep at any moment.  
  
“What about them?” Harry says.  
  
“I think we need to investigate them. Who are these guys, anyway? How do they know about stuff like – salt bullets? Also, we've run into them twice now when we were really on to something, so I think it would be – lucrative to track them somehow and find out more about them.”  
  
“Road trip!” Spruce says, lifting his fist into the air.  
  
“But, wait,” Maggie says. “Don't they, like – hate us?”  
  
“They fear us!” Ed says. He's got no idea where any of this is coming from. “Because we're on to them. I bet they work for some kind of government shadow agency.”  
  
“Like in the X-Files!” Corbett says. He's grinning and hugging his knees now, clearly excited about this idea. Ed can practically hear his golden retriever tail slapping against the basement floor.  
  
“Mulder and Scully worked for the FBI,” Harry says with a scoff. “Not a shadow agency.”  
  
“Whatever.” Ed gives Harry a look and Harry rolls his eyes. “The point is, that's my suggestion for our next move. Has anyone got anything better?”  
  
“I still can't believe our footage got erased, man,” Spruce says. “From the Morton house? Shit, that stuff was going to make us rich.”  
  
“Why don't you be more of an asshole, Spruce?” Ed snaps. “You're really upset that we don't have to watch Corbett die a billion more times during the editing process?”  
  
“Jesus, Ed!” Spruce says. He glances at Corbett guiltily. “There was more to it than just that. We could have cut that part out.”  
  
“I would have let you use it,” Corbett says, in a meek little voice that infuriates Ed further. He shakes his head and turns to his computer.  
  
“What's the point in talking about it now, anyway?” he says. “The footage is gone. We've got to move past the Morton house.”  
  
“No kidding,” Harry mutters, and Ed turns to glower at him.  
  
“Do you have something to say to me?” he asks.  
  
“No,” Harry says, and he actually looks pretty upset. Ed feels badly; maybe he has been a little short with Harry lately. He wishes he could explain that this thing with Maggie is making him feel abandoned, but it's too childish to say out loud.  
  
“Look, guys,” Ed says, holding up his hands. “If you hate this Sam and Dean idea, fine. That's just – it's just one idea.”  
  
“I don't think it's a bad one,” Maggie says. “We could start asking other ghost hunters if they've ever run across these guys.”  
  
“Yeah,” Harry says, brightening. “And I could make a dossier on everything we do know about them. Like the kind of car they drive and stuff. Did anyone else notice that it had Ohio plates?”  
  
“That's a good place to start,” Ed says, pointing at Harry. He actually has no interest at all in finding Sam and Dean, but it will be a good way to keep the team distracted while he figures out what to do about the future, and if he even wants to hunt ghosts anymore.  
  
The rest of the meeting passes as usual: off topic chit-chat, vague plans for their someday television show, Corbett refilling drinks and passing around snacks. Ed starts to enjoy himself, feeling like he used to when he hung out with these guys, and he ends up convincing Harry to spend the night in the basement with him and Corbett, like old times, when it was just Harry and Ed down here in the basement, trying to scare each other with ghost stories.  
  
“Thanks,” Ed says to Harry after Maggie has gone upstairs to go to bed and Spruce has gone home. They're in the basement's back closet, hunting around for their old sleeping bags. “I just figure, Corbett could use some company, you know, first night away from home, and it's not like I can sleep down here with him by myself. You were right before – I need to think about what I'm doing. I don't want to break the guy's heart after all he's already been through.”  
  
Harry smirks. "Maybe now that he's got a new lease on life and everything, he'll try to date someone who's not straight," he says.  
  
"That would be good," Ed says, though he doesn't like the idea of anybody falling out of love with him, even if he doesn't return those feelings. He's pretty sure that nobody's ever been in love with him before, not even his high school girlfriend, who seemed to enjoy dangling the prospect of sex in front of him more than ever actually doing anything, or having real conversations. She broke up with him senior year because she found porno mangas in his room. It was a pretty threadbare excuse, and she was dating a fellow marching band member by the following Monday.  
  
Ed and Harry set up their sleeping bags on the floor, Harry in the middle, as if to provide a barrier between Ed and Corbett. Ed makes a run to the fridge for beers, and they drink them in the dark, with Ed's computer screensaver glowing over them.  
  
"Hey, Corbett," Harry says at one point. "If you had died – would have you stuck around to hang out with us? You know, as a ghost?"  
  
Corbett laughs. "I don't know. You don't think I would have gone to heaven?"  
  
"Of course he would have gone to heaven," Ed says, scoffing. He's finally starting to feel a little bit drunk. "Corbett's the most heaven-bound guy I've ever met."  
  
"You _believe_ in heaven?" Harry says.  
  
"For people like Corbett, sure."  
  
Harry jabs Ed with his elbow when Corbett isn't looking, and Ed shrugs. He's staring at the ceiling, fighting sleep so that Harry and Corbett won't have to hear him shout through his nightmares. He wants another beer.  
  
"Well, you know what would have been awesome?" Corbett says. "If I stuck around as a ghost and traveled the nation with you guys. You'd be, like, the foremost expert on ghosts because you'd have one for a friend, and we could do shows and stuff."  
  
"Oh, shit, that'd be awesome!" Harry says, laughing. "We could call you Casper, you know, or – no, better: Corbett the Friendly Ghost!"  
  
"That's ridiculous," Ed says. He hates the idea of the Ghostfacers getting rich off of Corbett being dead, and always having to see him with that wound in his neck, knowing that they'd not only cost him his life but that they were profiting off of it – Ed would go out of his mind.  
  
"Corbett, the friendly ghost!" Harry sings. "The friendliest ghost you know!"  
  
"Shut up, Harry," Ed says, but Corbett is laughing.  
  
"I could have my own talk show or something," he says. "Like, I could offer to interview other ghosts and stuff, and they would, you know, come out of the closet because they trusted me, as a fellow supernatural entity."  
  
"Come out of the closet?" Harry says, laughing. "What, so only gay ghosts on your show?"  
  
"Harry, you're such a dick," Ed says, shoving him.  
  
"Okay, bad choice of words," Corbett says, and he's laughing, but Ed thinks he looks a little wounded. He actually hates the way Corbett looks in this light, with the bluish glow of the computer screen on his face. It reminds him of that fake death echo, and the footage on the camera.  
  
Corbett falls asleep first, probably worn out from all that crying, and Harry starts talking about Maggie's eyes, so Ed rolls over with a groan and pretends to be asleep himself. Harry is snoring just a few minutes later, and Ed falls asleep resisting the urge to roll over and check to make sure Corbett is still there.  
  
Mixed in with his usual nightmares, there's an awful one about Corbett as their friend the ghost, blood all over his shirt, that awful puncture wound in his neck, and in the dream Ed can tell he's only pretending to be okay with what's happened to him for the sake of the others. In the dream, Ed catches him crying backstage before one of their events, and as he hurries toward him to tell him that he doesn't have to do this for him, that he can cross over and be at peace, Daggett's ghost reappears, growling with fury, heading toward Corbett, ready to kill him again. That's when Ed realizes that Corbett has been alive the whole time, only pretending to be a ghost so that Ed and Harry would be famous.  
  
He wakes up just as Daggett is grunting and driving a crowbar through Corbett's neck. He bolts upright and sucks in a harsh breath, not screaming, though there's a high sharp whine in his ears, and he doesn't know where he is, only that he's terrified. He looks around, sees an empty sleeping bag beside him and someone asleep on the couch. The person on the couch is sighing softly; no, he's moaning. No, he's crying. Disoriented, still half in the dream, Ed moans with sympathy, crawls over to the couch, takes Corbett's shoulder and turns him onto his back.  
  
"Oh, God," Ed says, reaching up to touch Corbett's neck, delirious with relief until he feels something hot and wet there. But it's not blood, just tears, and Ed climbs onto the couch, onto Corbett, needing to be as close as possible to every living, breathing inch of him. Corbett gasps and grabs Ed's elbows.  
  
"What – what are you doing?" Corbett asks, sniffling.  
  
"Oh, Corbett, Corbett, you're okay," Ed says, pressing his face to Corbett's neck, rubbing his nose and cheeks against it. Corbett's pulse is pounding against Ed's skin, and it's the best feeling he's ever known, waking up to this, though he knows he's not completely awake. He doesn't want to be, just wants to float here for awhile.  
  
"I – I'm sorry if I woke you," Corbett says. "I just – I was thinking about today, I tried to be quiet –"  
  
"Corbett, Corbett," Ed whispers, the name thrumming through his blood like a heartbeat. "You don't know – I'm so afraid that it won't be true, that you'll disappear again."  
  
"Ed," Corbett says after a pause, so softly that Ed gets goosebumps, but he only squirms closer, needing more contact. Corbett's body is so warm and real, it's a miracle, and Ed feels like he could weep with gratitude.  
  
"God, you're okay," Ed says. He slips his arms under Corbett's and hooks his hands around his shoulders. "Please keep being okay, please, I need you to be okay."  
  
"I'm – I'm fine, Ed," Corbett says. He puts his hand on the back of Ed's head as if he's the one who needs comforting. "I promise."  
  
Ed sighs deeply, content and smiling against Corbett's neck. He wants to stay right here forever, where he'll never have to push away those jerks of worry about where Corbett is, wondering if he's safe.  
  
"God, Corbett," he says. "Your heartbeat."  
  
"Ed, you have to tell me what happened – what you thought happened to me in that house. It must have been – horrific. If, if you're acting like this."  
  
"Corbett," Ed murmurs, starting to go under again. He can sleep now, really sleep, and it's going to feel so good, pressed against Corbett like this, knowing that he's alive with every thump of Corbett's heart against Ed's chest. He takes a deep breath full of the smell of Corbett's skin, which is like clean laundry and marshmallow fluff, and when he drops into sleep it's like sinking into jacuzzi, like the way it was before the Morton house.  
  
*

Ed's ribs are aching when he wakes up. He moans and touches his face, wondering where his glasses are. Everything is fuzzy, and when he realizes that he's not lying on a mattress or the floor but someone else's warm, sleeping body, he should be startled. After a few moments of mindless nuzzling, he is. This isn't a dream, it's real, and it's Corbett he's nuzzling.  
  
He curses and pushes himself up. Corbett stirs beneath him, and Ed can't see his facial expression without his glasses, but he would bet that he's pleased, happy, and Ed's stomach pitches as he launches himself to the floor and lands there hard, hissing at the sting in his tailbone.  
  
"Ed," Corbett says as Ed crawls back to his own sleeping bag and feels around on the floor until he finds his glasses.  
  
"What the fuck!" Ed says, shoving them on. He glares at Corbett, who is sitting up now, looking like the tenderhearted, loyal puppy that he is. His innocence only infuriates Ed further.  
  
"I – I think you sleepwalked," Corbett says. His blush is rising, darkening from pink to red on his cheeks. "But – but I wasn't sure, so I didn't, um, want to push you away. You were so – needy, I –"  
  
"Don't – don't call me needy!" Ed says, wincing and holding up his hands. He feels violated, not by Corbett but but himself, and by what's happened to both of them, a thing that's changed everything for the worse, turned the world on its side. "Where the fuck is Harry?"  
  
"He's probably in Maggie's room," Corbett says. His voice is soft and wounded, and as Ed's panic fades he feels guilty for his reaction. It's not like Corbett pulled him onto the couch, though that's kind of how it feels, like Corbett has been magnetized by something only Dean or Sam could explain, and Ed can't keep himself clear of it.  
  
"I – I'm sorry," Ed says. "I'm just a little confused. I don't remember – climbing on to you."  
  
"Yeah. Well. You seemed a little out of it."  
  
Ed doesn't know what to say. He turns away from Corbett and scratches at his elbow, wanting to run away. This is not him. He doesn't want to be with Corbett, and definitely didn't let himself wonder, last night in the kitchen, what it would be like to be Corbett's boyfriend, to put his chin on Corbett's shoulder and kiss his neck while he sliced the Rice Krispie treats into neat squares.  
  
"Just – I'm sorry," Ed says again. "I hope I didn't – try to – do anything to you."  
  
"No," Corbett says, very quietly. "You just sort of, um. Cuddled me. It – it wasn't the worst thing that's ever happened to me." He smiles nervously.  
  
"Shit, well." Ed winces. He can't seem to bring himself to look at Corbett directly, doesn't want to see those sad golden retriever eyes. "I didn't mean to do that. I was – dreaming, and – it's been hard for me, everything that happened –"  
  
"Ed." Corbett's voice cracks, which is like a punch in Ed's gut, and he lets himself look at Corbett fully for a moment. "Please," Corbett says. He's hugging his elbows, looking like the saddest thing in the world. "Just tell me what happened, how I died in that illusion. Help me understand – because – I – I keep thinking that you really care about me, and, um. I don't want to think that if it's not true."  
  
"I do care about you," Ed says, and Corbett's face brightens, the creases at the corners of his eyes softening. "As a friend," Ed blurts. "That's all. I just – I – maybe you should get Harry to tell you how you died – how we _thought_ you died."  
  
"I don't want Harry to tell me."  
  
"Why not?" Ed asks, barking the question, and Corbett actually flinches. Ed groans, annoyed with Corbett, and with himself.  
  
"Because," Corbett says. "I don't think Harry, or Spruce, or even Maggie saw it the same way you did. You seem so much more affected."  
  
"Only because I planned the whole fucking thing!" Ed says, close to shouting. He can't believe how worked up he's getting, especially since he actually got a full night's sleep for once. But the fact that he was able to sleep only because he was using Corbett's body as a bed isn't exactly comforting in the aftermath.  
  
"There's something you're not telling me," Corbett says. He actually looks angry, and Ed feels betrayed. Corbett isn't supposed to get angry. He's supposed to serve baked goods and smile like a good sport when Harry picks on him, and be glad for everything he gets from Ed, whether it's half-asleep clutching or lies about what happened in the Morton house. Realizing that this is still the way he feels, no matter how sharply he barks at Harry when he doesn't thank Corbett for passing out sodas, Ed is too disgusted with himself to even look at Corbett, and he heads for the stairs with a groan.  
  
"I've got to go take a shower," he says. "I'll – I'll see you upstairs for breakfast." He pauses in the doorway, his back to the room. "Just – I'm sorry I did that. It won't happen again."  
  
He jogs up the stairs, and then up to the second floor. He's headed for his bedroom to get his robe and towel when Harry creeps out of Maggie's room, closing the door very quietly behind him. Ed clears his throat and Harry gasps, jumping out of his skin.  
  
"Jesus, Ed!" he says in a whispered hiss. "I thought you were your dad."  
  
"You'd better be glad I'm not," Ed says. "He'd throw you out the window if he knew."  
  
"No shit!" Harry says, glowering at him. "What – what are you doing up here? Why do you look like you just saw a ghost?"  
  
"Don't fucking ask me that," Ed says. He shoves around Harry and heads for his room, but Harry grabs his arm.  
  
"Hey!" Harry says. "What is going on with you? Where's Corbett? Did something happen?"  
  
"Did something _happen_? What the fuck kind of question is that?"  
  
He must have a terrifying expression on his face, because Harry actually looks scared for a moment. He releases Ed's arm and shakes his head.  
  
"Ed, you need help," he says. "Let me give you Dr. Bederman's number."  
  
"You know, what, Harry? Fuck Dr. Bederman, and fuck you. You think you know everything all of a sudden, just because my sister is giving you the time of day now? It's called post-traumatic stress disorder, man. She'll get over it."  
  
"Fuck you!" Harry says, too loud, but Ed doesn't care now if Harry is caught up here. His heart is slamming, and he feels like he's still dreaming, like none of this will produce real consequences.  
  
"You're the one with a post-traumatic stress disorder!" Harry says. "Moping around like Corbett really did die in that house – guess what, Ed? He didn't! Fucking accept it already, and that now you have to deal with the fact that he's still here, and you said those things to him, or what you thought was him, and you fucking – _meant_ them in some fucked up way, you _cried_ , Ed, we all saw you –"  
  
"Hey!" Ed's mother pokes her head out of the master bedroom at the end of the hall and narrows her eyes at them. "What is the matter with you two? Be quiet!"  
  
"Sorry, Mrs. Z," Harry says, and Ed's mother groans before slamming the door again. Harry pouts for a moment, toeing the carpet.  
  
"So now I guess everyone in this family hates me, except for Maggie," he says, muttering.  
  
"Yeah, I guess so." Ed will never forgive Harry for that comment about him crying at the Morton house. What was he supposed to do, confronting Corbett's ghost, knowing he had to lie about loving him to save him? What is he supposed to do now, knowing that doing so broke the spell Daggett had cast on the house, and broke Daggett himself, making the apparition of Corbett that Daggett had created suddenly strong enough to tear him to pieces? What the fuck is he supposed to do with that?  
  
Harry is giving him a wounded look, but Ed doesn't care. He pushes around him and into the bathroom, to hell with his robe and towel. He turns the shower on and makes the water very hot, climbs in and stands under it like a zombie, letting his glasses fog up. Something's got to give. He can't keep living this way, obsessed with what happened, obsessed with Corbett, but not the way Corbett wants him to be. He can't keep letting his jealousy of what Harry and Maggie found in each other that night tear his longest friendship to shreds. He needs to find a job. Get some real sleep, go on a date. And not with Corbett. No – hell no. That's not what he wants, his hand on Corbett's thigh in a movie theater, Corbett's adoring smile beaming at him from across the table at a restaurant, Corbett all around him in the backseat of that Land Rover, their breath fogging the windows. Fuck no, fuck no. This is not him, it's the post-traumatic stress disorder talking, it's nothing.  
  
After his shower, during which he almost forgets to use actual soap and shampoo, he dresses and heads downstairs. His parents are up, his mother doing the crossword at the table and his father cooking pancakes. Corbett is there, too, with bed hair and flannel pajama pants, a white t-shirt that looks brand new. Corbett gives Ed a sad little look and then ducks his eyes away. Ed just stands in the doorway awkwardly until both of his parents are staring at him.  
  
"Everything alright, buddy?" his father says. "Your mom told me Harry stormed out of here pretty early. Did you two have some kind of fight?"  
  
"No." Ed doesn't want to talk about it with his parents, who never approved of Harry because of the white trash family he comes from. As much as Harry can infuriate Ed, he's always moved to defend him when his parents criticize him, and it's no different now. He feels like shit for what he said to Harry about Maggie, and stands in front of the open refrigerator for a long time, not sure what he's looking for.  
  
"Eddie, are you coming down with something?" his mother asks.  
  
"No." He's already hopelessly infected, and there's no cure. He eyes the beers, then goes for the orange juice.  
  
"Corbett, were you comfortable sleeping in the basement?" Ed's mother asks. "It can get chilly down there."  
  
"Oh, I was fine," Corbett says. "Ed gave me plenty of blankets."  
  
Ed cringes, wondering if Corbett is counting Ed himself among these blankets. He sits down beside Corbett at the table, still perversely pleased to be close to him, to see the healthy glow of the tanned skin on his arm as it rests on the table beside Ed's. He's got to get over this soon or he's never going to recover. Fuck: maybe he should see Dr. Bederman.  
  
Maggie comes downstairs yawning and kisses their father on the cheek before forking up some pancakes. She doesn't seem angry with Ed, so Harry must not have told her what he said in the hallway. He feels so bad about it now that his stomach aches, and he doesn't have an appetite.  
  
"So, what's everybody got planned for today?" Ed's father asks when he sits down with his own pancakes. Ed's father is a lawyer, but not the flashy, lovable sort that Corbett would be, charming the jury with his sincere smiles. Ed's father mostly just helps people write their wills.  
  
"I've got class at noon," Maggie says. "Then me and – uh, me and my friend are going to a movie."  
  
"I think I'm going to look for a job," Corbett says. "The college I went to has a career center for alumni."  
  
"That's a great idea!" Ed's mother says. "Eddie, why don't you go with him?"  
  
"Uh, 'cause I'm not an alumni." Ed was in college for a few years, but he never really cared about any of the subjects as much as he cared about ghost hunting, and Harry couldn't afford school, so he was all for Ed dropping out to help him found the Ghostfacers.  
  
"You don't have to tell anyone that!" his mother says. "Just shadow Corbett, maybe you'll get a lead."  
  
"Yeah, I could help you," Corbett says. "If I use my student ID, you can search through their listings."  
  
"Actually, I've got too much stuff to do here at headquarters," Ed says. The last thing he needs is to spend all day with Corbett, after what happened last night. "You know, for the new investigation."  
  
"Like what?" Maggie asks, making a face, and Ed shoots her an irritated look. Sometimes she's on his side when it comes to eschewing all over responsibilities in favor of ghost hunting, and sometimes she turns on him.  
  
"Eddie, will you please give it a rest?" his father says. "It was one thing when you had the job at Kinko's –"  
  
"Like it will be that hard for me to get another retail copy shop job when I need to," Ed says. "I've got some money saved up – will everyone just leave me alone, please? I'm an adult, aren't I?"  
  
"God, Ed," Maggie mutters while his parents stare at him, both of them seemingly at a loss. "How much longer are you going to have your period?"  
  
"Maggie!" their mother says.  
  
"Sorry, Mom, but he's so moody that it's bordering on multiple personality disorder."  
  
"It's my fault," Corbett says, and Ed gapes at him, his heart dropping into his stomach. Corbett gives him a pathetic look, eyebrows slanting.  
  
"I did something reckless on our last Ghostfacers mission," Corbett says. "It was totally my fault, but Ed blamed himself, 'cause – 'cause he's our leader. And he's upset about it, but he shouldn't be, 'cause I'm fine, and I don't blame him for my – my dumb misstep. Nobody does."  
  
Ed is stunned into silence, still staring at Corbett with his mouth open. He wants to throw his plate of pancakes to the floor and demand that Corbett stop being so self-sacrificing, but finally he just looks over at his parents, who are both frowning slightly, waiting for further explanation.  
  
"Yeah," Ed says. "Yeah, I – I'm just dealing with some. Stuff." He gets up from the table and goes to the sink, sweat gathering on his upper lip. He can feel the stares of his family against his back, and he knows that Corbett is looking down at his plate shyly, pushing syrup around with his fork.  
  
"Well – what exactly happened on this mission?" Ed's father asked.  
  
"Nothing, Dad, it totally wasn't a big deal," Maggie says, her voice high and tight. "Corbett just stepped on, you know, a rotten old board and almost fell through the floor, but he was totally okay. Ed, um. Ed caught him and pulled up."  
  
Ed turns to give Maggie a look, not sure if he's trying to communicate betrayal or gratitude. He does want Corbett to know that he saved the day, but he doesn't want him to know how.  
  
"Eddie, this is crazy!" his mother says, tossing her fork down. "You've got to stop running around like a little boy, looking for ghosts. Poor Corbett could have been badly hurt."  
  
"No, Mrs. Zeddmore, please, it really was my fault," Corbett says. "Ed told us not to go to the second floor, that it was too dangerous, but, but I wanted to impress everybody. So I wandered off by myself." He sneaks a look at Ed.  
  
"Even so," Ed's father says. "Enough really is enough, Ed."  
  
"Great," Ed mutters. "I guess I'll just go downstairs and dismantle our headquarters, then."  
  
"Ed, no!" Maggie says. "You guys – lay off of him! You don't the stuff we've seen." Her voice shakes a little, and Ed knows she's thinking of the Morton house.  
  
"I just don't understand it," Ed's father is saying as Ed storms out of the kitchen. He heads for the basement, slamming the door shut behind him. The Ghostfacers headquarters, with its peeling old posters and familiar damp basement smell, used to be his sanctuary. Now, all he sees are Corbett's things: the rumpled bedclothes on the couch and his deodorant and toothbrush placed neatly on the sink in the little attached bathroom. The clothes Corbett wore yesterday are folded on the arm of the couch and the new ones he bought are stacked up on top of the shopping bag they came in. Ed stares for awhile, and goes to his computer when he hears footsteps on the stairs. He can tell by the weight of them that they're Corbett's; he's even bigger than Ed's dad.  
  
"Hey," Corbett says when he reaches the basement, lingering at the foot of the stairs. Ed doesn't turn to look at him.  
  
"Hey."  
  
"Um, I. Just wanted to make sure you don't want to come with me, to the career center."  
  
"No, Corbett. Go, find a career, have fun. I'll just be here, childishly perusing a thing that doesn't exist."  
  
"Ed, God. You don't have to convince _me_ that ghosts exist. One fucking – grabbed me and dragged me through a hell house. I, I – still have the bruises."  
  
Ed whirls around, his whole world view shaken by the idea that the thing that made him watch Corbett die countless times actually left bruises on the real Corbett's body.  
  
"What?" he says, stuttering. "You – you never told us you had bruises."  
  
"Maybe I was embarrassed," Corbett says. "To complain about something like this when you guys thought I'd died. But, yeah. I've just been wearing long-sleeved shirts, to hide them. They've mostly faded now, but you can still see them, kind of."  
  
He walks over to Ed and turns his arms over showing Ed the faint green-yellow hand prints around his elbows. Ed reaches out to touch them and then draws his hand back.  
  
"Jesus, Corbett," he says. "Is – are there more?"  
  
"Yeah." Corbett sighs and lifts up his shirt. Ed curses when he sees the bruises around Corbett's hips, and waist, evidence that he was bodily dragged somewhere. They're worse than the ones on his arms, still dark. Ed's hands begin to shake, and he looks up at Corbett, who seems so sad about this, about having to show Ed something that will make him feel more guilty.  
  
"Better than getting murdered for real, right?" he says with a little smile.  
  
"Fuck, you must have been so scared," Ed says. He wants to put his face against the perfect flat of Corbett's stomach, but only because – well, he doesn't know why. He just does, and he knows there must be some very complicated, trauma-related reason, though all he can come up with is _Comfort_ , not even sure if he'd be comforting Corbett or himself.  
  
"Yeah," Corbett says. "I was scared. I'm kinda proud of myself for not wetting my pants, actually. It was pretty bad." He puts his shirt back down and shrugs. "I'm – I'm gonna get dressed and head out." He seems to be waiting for Ed to say something more, and when he doesn't, Corbett gathers his things and heads into the bathroom. He emerges a few minutes later, wearing a nice pair of gray slacks and a thin blue sweater. He's combed his hair, and Ed can smell his freshly applied spray-on deodorant. He'll have no trouble finding work. Everyone who interviews him will see him like Ed and Harry did: perfect, perfect for the job.  
  
"So," Corbett says. "See ya."  
  
"You know, you should probably go to a doctor," Ed says, feeling panicked, the way he always does when Corbett goes away. "To check for internal bleeding and stuff. You're not still sore, are you?"  
  
Corbett laughs a little, sadly. He shrugs.  
  
"Nah," he says. "Later, Ed."  
  
Ed spends another hour on the computer, staring blankly, not really seeing anything, even when he switches from ghost-related websites to anime porn. When the screen starts to burn his eyes he takes his glasses off, slumps over to the sofa, and buries his face in the pillow. It smells like Corbett, and like the memory of the good sleep he had here with him last night. He's out like a light in minutes.  
  
*  
  
After sleeping most of the day away, Ed is groggy by the time Corbett and Maggie return from their more productive adventures. He finds them upstairs in the living room, watching a house remodeling show and laughing, having commentary about a redesigned kitchen. Ed considers going right for the beer, but it's only three o'clock, so he gets some iced green tea instead, and flops down onto the couch between Maggie and Corbett.  
  
"Are you sick?" Maggie asks, touching the back of her hand to Ed's forehead.  
  
"Probably," Ed says. He gulps tea, and Corbett laughs a little.  
  
"You do look kind of pale," he says. Ed resents the comment, particularly coming from Corbett, who is perpetually sun-kissed.  
  
"How'd the job search go?" he asks.  
  
"Fine. I mostly just worked on my resume with one of the counselors. I had a heck of a time explaining Ghostfacers to her, and my internship."  
  
"You can list me as a reference," Ed says, and Corbett grins.  
  
"Thanks."  
  
They spend a couple of hours there on the couch, just staring at the television, none of them saying much. It's kind of cozy, the sort of simple thing they all need after what they went through together, and Ed feels guilty knowing that Harry isn't here because of him, particularly because Maggie is still being nice to him, meaning that Harry hasn't told her the details of their fight. He looks over at her as the credits roll on yet another dull little house-flipping show and smirks when he sees that she's curled up against the arm of the couch, asleep.  
  
"I wonder if she and Harry are – doing what they're doing – just to avoid sleeping," Ed says. He looks over at Corbett. "You're not having nightmares, are you?"  
  
Corbett tries a crooked smile, but just ends up looking queasy. He nods.  
  
"Yeah," he says. "I am."  
  
"Me, too – I mean. You know that's why I did that last night, right? 'Cause of a nightmare. Sleepwalking. That kind of shit."  
  
"That kind of shit," Corbett repeats, speaking softly. "Yeah."  
  
Ed clears his throat and looks back to the television. Suddenly he can't even handle watching something about old houses, and he changes the channel to sports highlights, expecting Corbett to be enthralled. He looks over during the first commercial break and snorts out a laugh when he sees that Corbett has fallen asleep, too, his head tipped back onto the couch cushions and a pillow hugged against his chest, his lips parted slightly. He wonders how well Corbett slept last night, with Ed squirming on top of him, confusing him, murmuring his name like a madman. Well, he'll get a full night's sleep tonight, nightmares permitting. Ed certainly won't be staying down in the basement again. Worst idea ever. He tries not to stare at Corbett's neck, his smooth skin and the bump of his pulse, the way the hollow of his throat is particularly exposed with his head tipped back like that. Ed feels like a vampire, but he can't make himself look away.  
  
Everybody is a little drowsy during dinner, including Ed's parents, who make some remarks on current events that only Corbett is polite enough to respond to. Ed drinks three beers and ignores his mother's pointed looks, then heads down to the basement, remembering that it's been turned into Corbett's room only when he arrives there and sees that at some point Corbett neatened the sheets and pillows on the couch. He turns around to leave, not sure what he was going to do down in the basement, anyway, and almost crashes into Corbett's chest.  
  
"Sorry," Corbett says, laughing. He seems nervous, and stuffs his hands into his back pockets.  
  
"Don't worry," Ed says. "I'm not going to sleep down here tonight. Just – I was just – I have to look something up on the computer."  
  
"I wasn't worried," Corbett says. "I was thinking, um – do you want to take some pictures of those bruises I showed you? For evidence, or whatever."  
  
"God, no, Corbett," Ed says, and he feels bad when Corbett looks kind of crushed, his eyes dropping to the floor. "I mean, thanks for offering, but it's kind of morbid, yeah? That's – that's a weird thing for me to be concerned with, considering my, um, profession, but – this is – it's too personal. Or something? And anyway, it's not like we can prove that you got the bruises from a ghost."  
  
"True," Corbett says. He shrugs. "Well. I'm gonna take a shower. I didn't get one this morning."  
  
"Right, uh. I'll go."  
  
"You don't have to."  
  
"No, I – do. Bye."  
  
Ed takes the stairs two at a time, not even wanting to be on the same floor with Corbett when he starts undressing. He goes up to his room and shuts himself inside, pacing a little, feeling heavy, wishing he hadn't had those beers. He needs to start setting things right, and makes a mental list: _stop thinking about Corbett, figure out what to do with your life, find a part-time job in the meantime, fix things with your best friend._ He grabs his phone from his desk and drops onto his bed with a groan, bringing up the text messaging screen.  
  
 _Hey_ , he types, in a text message to Harry. _Sorry I was a douche. M says I'm on my period. Ha ha. Maybe?_  
  
He puts his phone on his stomach and watches it rise and fall. He should probably add 'get back in shape' to his to-do list. Maybe he could work out with Corbett. But no, that – that would be bad.  
  
His phone buzzes and he picks it up, opening a new message from Harry, encouraged by the prompt response.  
  
 _I talked about this with Dr. B_ Harry says. _He agrees that you should make an appt. ASAP_.  
  
Ed groans and tosses his phone onto his bedside table. Ever since Harry's parents got divorced when he were in sixth grade, he's had to hear about the wonderful Dr. Bederman, Harry's surrogate father. Ed thinks their relationship is kind of unhealthy. He rolls onto his side and hugs his pillow, thinking about what Harry and Maggie's wedding would be like. Harry would probably want Dr. Bederman to officiate. Ed's parents would be sour-faced, and Harry's redneck uncles would insist on shooting off fireworks. Ed would be the best man, and Corbett – Corbett would bring Rice Krispie squares for the reception, in a glass baking pan, covered with decorative cellophane wrap.  
  
Ed sinks into a dream about this, a nice change of pace from his usual nightmares. In the dream, Harry wears a white tux to the wedding, and Maggie's wedding gown is giant and fluffy, like the dress Glenda the good witch wore in _The Wizard of Oz_. They both look very happy, and even Ed's parents are being good sports. Ed accounts for everybody that he included in his daydream as he slipped into sleep, even the redneck uncles, who are lining the wedding aisle with fireworks, ready to light them as soon as Dr. Bederman pronounces Harry and Maggie husband and wife. The only one he can't find is Corbett.  
  
"Hey," he whispers to Harry after he's kissed Maggie. "Harry – where's Corbett? Didn't you invite him?" Ed will take it personally if Harry didn't. Harry frowns and scoffs.  
  
"Ed," he says. "Corbett is _dead_."  
  
In an instant, Ed is transported back to the hellish darkness of the Morton house, Corbett standing before him, stuck in his death echo, choking on his own blood, his eyes bugging out as his throat is punctured, blood soaking the front of his shirt. Maggie, Harry, and Spruce are all behind Ed, shouting at him, telling him to fix this, to save Corbett, to tell him what he needs to hear, but Ed can't make his voice work, and Corbett just keeps dying, and dying, and dying again.  
  
There's no clear delineation between Ed's dream and the waking world, and he doesn't have a real thought process, except that he has to get to Corbett right now, Corbett isn't safe, he needs Ed's help. As he makes his way down the stairs to the first floor and then to the basement, he half-thinks he's headed down into Daggett's bomb shelter to collect Corbett's lifeless body, his face hot and wet with tears like it was when he did this at the Morton house, everything dark, all his hope gone.  
  
"Corbett?" he cries as he stumbles through the dark in the basement, even the computer's screensaver dark now, in hibernation mode. He chokes on a sob, anticipating the cold, dead weight of Corbett's body, the sick punchline that he's been fearing ever since he found Corbett alive and confused in that bomb shelter, too good to really be true, too good to last.  
  
"Ed?" Corbett says softly, from somewhere in the darkness, and Ed hiccups another sob as he feels his way toward him, finding Corbett's blanketed legs, his heaving chest – _oh_ , he's breathing, he's alive, it's still true, still real. Ed dumps himself onto the couch, onto Corbett, and crawls up to feel his arms, his shoulders, and finally his neck, Ed's hand trembling as he takes a careful inventory of it. No blood, no scars, just a strong pulse and warm skin, goosebumps rising over it.  
  
"Corbett," Ed says, exhaling his name with relief as he presses his face to Corbett's cheek. He can feel Corbett's breath, the quick, surprised pace of it, and then Corbett's hands on his waist, holding him as if he's not sure if he wants to throw Ed off of him or pull him closer.  
  
"Oh, fuck, you're okay, you're okay," Ed moans, chanting out his relief as he spills himself down onto Corbett, letting his tense muscles relax, rubbing his face all over Corbett's neck.  
  
"Ed." Corbett sounds a little wounded, probably still scared from being dragged down here to the bomb shelter by that ghost, and why wouldn't he be? What happened to him was so awful, but Ed will protect him now, he'll stay here and hold him all night long if he has to. "Ed, you can't – please – _oh_."  
  
It just seems like the right thing to do, licking into the hollow of Corbett's miraculously unharmed throat, and he tastes so good that Ed does it again, and again, lapping at him as his eyes fall shut and he begins to sink back into sleep, into good dreams or no dreams at all, no more nightmares now that Corbett is here. Corbett's pulse pumps against the tip of Ed's tongue, and the skin over the hollow of his throat is so soft and almost delicate, so sacred, Ed could lick at it for hours.  
  
"Shit, Ed," Corbett whispers, and suddenly his arms go tightly around Ed's back, squeezing him close. "Shit, yeah, that's – Ed, oh. Are you even awake?"  
  
"Mmm, yeah," Ed says, moving up a bit, to lick over Corbett's bobbing Adam's apple. "Corbett, ah. So perfect, you're perfect, never gonna let anyone hurt you."  
  
"Fuck," Corbett says. He pets Ed's hair, and that feels good, too; Corbett has big hands. Ed hums happily at the thought, shifts to get more comfortable, and falls asleep like he's a stone that's been dropped into a warm pool of water, sinking fast.  
  
He doesn't dream anything, just sleeps, knowing that Corbett is close, surrounded by the smell of skin and the warmth of his body, their chests pushing together as they breathe against each other. He feels like he's sunbathing, sleeping poolside with the ocean nearby, like there's never, ever been real darkness anywhere, just the soft thrill of this comfort, human contact that feels like pure sunlight. He sleeps for a long time, fighting consciousness at least twice. When he wakes up, he's pressed between the couch cushions and the shelter of Corbett's body, his leg pushed through Corbett's thighs and Corbett's leg hooked over his hip. He rejects rational thought for as long as he can, nuzzling at Corbett's chest, listening to his heartbeat. Corbett moans softly and pulls him in closer. Ed wants to stay, wants to pretend he's still asleep, but he can't.  
  
He extricates himself from Corbett's arms, trying not to look at him, fighting the urge to linger. He's got morning wood, but it's going away quickly as he realizes what he did. He's out of control, out of his mind. He stumbles over Corbett and heads for the stairs, bumping into the side of the couch and wishing he had his glasses.  
  
"Ed?" Corbett says, sounding sleepy and soft, the smallness of his voice dragging at the pit of Ed's stomach. Ed hurries up the stairs without looking back.  
  
Maybe Corbett will convince himself that he dreamed the whole thing, too.  
  
*

Ed stays in his room for a long time, trying not to think too hard about what happened. It's all wrapped up in trauma and anxiety that will fade, and it wouldn't be fair to Corbett to think of it seriously, to think about the fact that he didn't really enjoy losing his virginity to his high school girlfriend, how after all that buildup he found the whole thing to be pretty much a letdown, or about how a lot of the anime porn he ends up looking at 'accidentally' features two guys – the artists make the uke look so feminine, sometimes it's hard to tell! He doesn't think about the paltry number of girls he's hooked up with since high school, and how he's never been interested in calling them the day after, and why he's started drinking so much and how in the hell admitting to a love that seemed to spontaneously burst into being after watching Corbett suffer defeated a powerful ghost.  
  
He wants a beer. It's nine o'clock in the morning.  
  
When he heads downstairs the house is quiet, his parents already at work and Maggie at the kitchen table, an empty cereal bowl on the table beside her as she leans over one of her textbooks, cramming for an afternoon test. Ed doesn't disturb her, just goes to the fridge and stares into it, wondering if simply losing his appetite for food will help him get back in shape.  
  
"Ed," Maggie says after he's been there for a few minutes. "Your melancholy is distracting me."  
  
"Sorry." He closes the fridge and walks from the kitchen, freezing when he hears Corbett coming up the basement stairs. He can't avoid the guy forever, so he just stands there like an idiot in his boxer shorts and t-shirt, waiting to see how this is going to play out.  
  
Corbett looks surprised to see him, and Ed is surprised, too, because Corbett is dressed and showered, holding all of the shopping bags he brought over the other day.  
  
"Hey," Ed says, frowning. "Um. Where are you going with those?"  
  
"I'm leaving." Corbett makes his face serious, and Ed hates that look on him, wants him to be soft and confused and non-critical. Not that Ed deserves any of that at this point.  
  
"What? What – where will you go?"  
  
"I just got off the phone with Harry," Corbett says. "I'm going to crash there for a few days, until I – figure something out, I don't know. Maybe one of my old friends from high school needs a roommate. I don't know – I just – I can't stay here."  
  
"Corbett!" Maggie appears in the kitchen doorway. "What are you talking about? Of course you can stay here – Ed! What happened?"  
  
"Nothing, just, I have to go," Corbett says, his voice pinching up as he hurries for the door with his bags. Ed follows, and Maggie grabs his arm.  
  
"Ed!" she hisses. "What the heck is going on? He can't go stay at Harry's! Harry's step-father is, like, basically a Nazi."  
  
"Oh, Jesus, Maggie, he's not that bad." Actually, he is pretty bad, racist and homophobic and all that goes with it. Ed pulls out of Maggie's grip and runs through the front door, chasing after Corbett, who is loading up his Land Rover with his things. Corbett looks at Ed like he doesn't want anything to do with him, now or ever again, and somehow, even after everything, this hurts worse than Ed could have imagined.  
  
"Look, I'm sorry!" Ed says. "I didn't mean to, I was sleepwalking –"  
  
"I don't care!" Corbett says with a dark little laugh. "It doesn't matter to me if you were sleepwalking or not. It still hurts. I'm not – I'm not going to put myself through this just because you're feeling guilty about what happened."  
  
He pulls open the driver's side door and Ed thinks about jumping into the Land Rover with him, refusing to get out, but what the hell is wrong with him? This is good, this will jar him out of his waking delirium, not having Corbett hanging around, confusing him. Still, he grabs the car door and holds it open when Corbett tries to slam it shut.  
  
"You don't understand," Ed says, trying to narrow his eyes, to get angry, but Corbett is crying now, and Ed's face softens like he's taken a punch.  
  
"Yeah, I don't," Corbett says. "Because you won't tell me. You won't tell me what you saw, and you won't be honest with me about – whatever is going on. Fine, I don't care. Maybe I'll get Harry to tell me, or maybe I'll just forget the whole fucking thing. I thought – when I met you guys, because you were kind of – alternative, or whatever – I thought I could be myself around you. Well, being myself fucking hurt, and sucked, and maybe I should just go back to pretending I'm like the guys I knew in high school. It's easier to pretend, right, Ed?"  
  
Corbett slams the door, and Ed steps back, letting him go. The Land Rover peals down the driveway as if Corbett can't get away fast enough, and Ed watches it speed down the street, take a left, and disappear. He feels like hopping in the van and following, just so he can scream at Corbett and tell him that he's wrong.  
  
It's _not_ easier to pretend, actually.  
  
*  
  
Ed spends the rest of the day on the living room couch, the house empty except for him, the blinds drawn. He curls up under one of the blankets that Corbett used when he slept in the basement and watches _Ghostbusters_ and then _Ghostbusters II_. Fortunately, Maggie arrives home before his parents, so they don't catch him wallowing. Unfortunately, she's got Harry with her.  
  
"Where's Corbett?" Ed asks, rolling onto his back on the couch as the two of them stare down at him, giving him such harsh, judgmental stares that they might as well be Mr. and Mrs. Zeddmore.  
  
"You don't deserve to know where Corbett is," Maggie says. "He won't tell us what you did to him, but we know it's something bad."  
  
Ed moans. "What time is it?" he asks.  
  
"You know what?" Harry says. "You don't deserve to know what time it is, either."  
  
"It's almost four," Maggie says, rolling her eyes at Harry. "Have you been here all day? Ed, _what_ is going on? You have to talk to somebody."  
  
Maggie drops down beside him on the couch as he pulls himself up into a sitting position, blinking and groggy and still too close to sleep to feel very defensive. Harry sits down on the other side of him and thumps him on the back.  
  
"C'mon, buddy," he says. "Tell us."  
  
"How am I supposed to explain this to you guys when I can't even figure it out myself?" Ed asks.  
  
"Just try," Maggie says. "It's all got to do with Corbett, hasn't it? And what we saw in that house?"  
  
"Yeah. I just." Ed winces. "I don't understand what happened there. At the end, when I tried to get, you know, the illusion of him – out of its echo. I don't think it was that weird that I got – so emotional, do you?"  
  
"Of course not," Maggie says. "I was crying, too. Harry was shaking like a leaf. You can't really be this upset just because you cried when we thought Corbett was dead. We _all_ cried when we found him in the bomb shelter, remember? Even Spruce!"  
  
"It's not that," Ed says. He sighs. Maggie has opened the living room blinds, and grayish afternoon light streams in, the clouds outside heavy and promising rain. "It's the fact that it worked, even though it wasn't really Corbett. What happened? I think – I think I'm afraid that some part of that illusion that I spoke to was real, really a piece of Corbett that Daggett took from him forever. The way he looked at me when I told him I loved him – it was _him_ , he recognized me, and then he saved us."  
  
"Look, if Dean and Sam couldn't explain it, we'll never be able to," Harry says.  
  
"I know. I think that's why I want to find them, really. Maybe they do know and they just didn't want to tell us."  
  
"Well, what do you want to hear from them, Ed?" Maggie asks. "What would make you feel better? I haven't seen any signs that Corbett isn't a complete person since the Morton house, that he feels like he's missing anything. If anything, he seems more alive than he was before, what with having the courage to tell his parents about himself, and to stand up to you when you apparently treated him like shit."  
  
"I didn't treat him like shit!" Ed says, though maybe he kind of did. "I just – did this sleepwalking thing."  
  
"Sleepwalking?" Harry says, and Ed can feel him exchanging a glance with Maggie behind Ed's back.  
  
"Yeah. You know, I've been having these nightmares, and I wake up feeling like I'm back there, and like Corbett is really dead, and it's all my fault. And, when he was here, well. I kind of. Confirmed his existence in the middle of the night."  
  
"Oh, fuck," Harry says. "Is that – slang for, um – are we talking butt sex here?"  
  
"No!" Ed says, shoving him.  
  
"Not that there'd be anything wrong with that," Maggie says, reaching around Ed to punch Harry's shoulder.  
  
"Hey, I know, totally!" Harry says, holding up his hands. "Just, uh. Well, now I don't know what to say."  
  
"Ed." Maggie moans, and shakes her head at Harry. "Just – what exactly do you mean by – confirming his existence? In the middle of the night?" She raises her eyebrows. "'Cause, frankly, gay sex was the first thing that came to my mind when I tried to parse that, too."  
  
"It wasn't sex!" Ed says. "It was more like. Uh. Desperate clinging?"  
  
Harry and Maggie exchange a wide-eyed look, this time not trying to hide it from Ed, who stands and paces across the room, pulling his hands through his hair.  
  
"It's not like I'm gay!" he bellows. "It's just – what happened, and everything. I'm obsessed with his neck."  
  
"Oh – Ed." Maggie smiles a little, as if his identity crisis is cute.  
  
"Well – it's logical that I would be! Right? 'Cause of what we saw? I just keep needing to, like, make sure, you know. That he's not hurt."  
  
"I think if Dr. Bederman were here," Harry says, "He'd tell you to have this conversation with Corbett, not us."  
  
"What's Corbett going to tell me?" Ed asks, glowering at the mention of Dr. Bederman. "He's in love with me, right? You're the one who told me that, Harry. That's what this whole fucking thing stems from, my guilt about not having feelings for Corbett and for having a hand in getting him killed, bound inextricably together, creating some kind of – elaborate gay sex illusion in my mind, kind of like what Daggett created. Right? I mean, it all makes sense."  
  
"Ed!" Maggie jumps up from the couch. "If you really believe that, why are you dragging around the house like the world is coming to an end and losing your job because you can't even think straight enough to notice the color of a piece of paper in your hand?"  
  
"Why don't you just go about this scientifically, have sex with him, and see whether you like it or not?" Harry says, lifting his shoulders. "I mean, we know he'd be up for it."  
  
"Harry, for fuck's sake." Ed feels fully awake now, and he regrets being tricked into talking about this while still half-asleep. It feels like everything he feels lately is a trick designed to confuse him, something he can't trust.  
  
"Though you'd better act quick if you're going to try that," Harry says. He scoots over to Maggie and slides his arm around her shoulders. Ed is so worked up about his own shit that the sight of Harry embracing his sister doesn't bother him.  
  
"What are you talking about?" Ed asks.  
  
"He told us he has a date tonight," Maggie says, speaking softly, as if she's wary of hurting Ed's feelings. "Apparently, when he decided to have a new lease on life after the Morton house, he not only came out to his parents, he joined some kind of gay dating website."  
  
"He's already gotten a ton of offers," Harry says, as if suddenly he's an expert on Corbett's love life. "I mean, he's a good looking guy. Even I can admit that."  
  
"That's very big of you, sweetie," Maggie says, patting Harry's chest, and Harry beams proudly, seeming to miss the fact that she's being sarcastic.  
  
"So – great," Ed says. He feels like his insides have been sprayed with ice, but it doesn't matter. He'll just miss the attention, the adoration, the French vanilla coffee. It's selfish, and Corbett deserves better.  
  
"Great?" Maggie says. "Really? You seemed pretty upset when he was leaving. If you're ready to be free of him –"  
  
"I was just worried about him staying at Harry's house!" Ed says.  
  
"Hey!" Harry says.  
  
"I only mean, you know, because of your step-dad."  
  
"Oh, well. Fair enough."  
  
Maggie and Harry dash up to Maggie's room to hide when Ed's parents get home from work, and Ed heads down to the basement, not wanting to deal with them right now, either. He sits on the couch, where Corbett neatly folded the blankets he used before leaving, one of which Ed left upstairs on the living room couch. He hopes he won't get questioned about that later, and doesn't know what he would tell his mother. _Well, I brought this blanket up here, um, because it smells like a guy I'm totally not in love with but who I happen to be temporarily obsessed with because of post-traumatic stress_. It would probably be the last straw, his ticket to involuntary commitment to an institution.  
  
He makes himself get off the couch, but then he doesn't know where to go. He paces the room for awhile, looking for anything that Corbett left behind, some evidence that he was here, real and warm and willing to let Ed lick that soft, soft skin at the hollow his throat. He ends up on the computer, frantically searching through gay dating websites, looking for the name Alan J. Corbett. All of the sites attempt to force him to join before performing a name search, and hell if he's going to do _that_ right now. So he does a Google search for Corbett instead, coming up with only a few relevant results, mostly related to Corbett's high school football team. Apparently he was the starting running back during his junior and senior year. Ed reads his stats, feeling dazed. The only thing of interest that he finds on Google is a picture of seventeen-year-old Corbett in his football uniform and pads, his helmet off so he can grin at the camera, black war paint under his eyes. Ed stares at it for, like, an hour.  
  
When he finally slopes upstairs he finds his mother in the kitchen, microwaving some soup. He almost turns on his heel, but then he realizes that he really kind of needs his mom right now. He gets a bottle of water from the fridge and sits at the kitchen table to sigh heavily until she finally turns from stirring her soup.  
  
"Do you want me to make you something?" she asks. "Your father's working late and your sister's holed up in her room as usual. Do you know what she's doing up there all the time?"  
  
"Studying," Ed says. He folds his arms on the table and rests his chin on the table. "And no, I'm not hungry. Thanks, though."  
  
"Oh, honey." His mother walks over to ruffle his hair and press her hand to his forehead, checking his temperature. "What's the matter?"  
  
"Mom." Ed puts his face in his hands and moans, feeling like he's going to cry. "I think I might be. In love with someone."  
  
"Eddie," his mother says, sounding charmed, which is not what he needs right now. She sighs and pulls a chair over beside his, and Ed leaves his face hidden in his hands as she rubs his back. "Is it that boy who's living in our basement?"  
  
"What!" Ed pops up to look at her. "I – how did you – I mean –"  
  
"Eddie, it's okay! If it's our reaction you're worried about –"  
  
"No, it's not – wait, why aren't you surprised? I've never been – gay before."  
  
His mother shrugs. "I always kind of thought – maybe," she says.  
  
" _Why_?" It's not like he played with dolls as a kid or anything. He used to decapitate Maggie's, but she didn't mind, because then he would bring them back as ghosts who tormented her other dolls, which was fun for her, too, somehow.  
  
"Ah – that girlfriend you had in high school." His mother makes a face. "She was such a little – brat, and you always seemed so burdened by her. It was like you only had a girlfriend because you thought you should want one."  
  
"Yeah, but." Ed feels like he could hyperventilate, like he's been living some secret life for years, unknown to even himself but apparently visible to his mother. "I've never, like, had a crush on a boy."  
  
"Well, maybe you were just too scared to – access those feelings? Anyway, that's kind of a relief to hear, because we used to be afraid you had a crush on Harry."  
  
"Ew, God! Mom, no! Never! Ugh – that you would even –"  
  
"Okay, okay, I'm sorry! It's just that you were always more devoted to him than any of the girls we saw you hanging around with. But, like I said: a relief. Not that you didn't a crush on a boy, but that you didn't have a crush on – that boy."  
  
"No, I – wait, though, what's your problem with Harry, anyway? Why can't you and Dad give him a break?"  
  
"Oh, you know we like him fine. We just wouldn't want to see our son having romantic feelings for someone so – squirrelly."  
  
"That's not fair," Ed says, thinking of Harry, upstairs with Maggie.  
  
"Listen, let's not get into the great Harry debate right now," his mom says. "This other boy – he's the one you have feelings for?"  
  
"I don't know." Ed groans, uncomfortable with this conversation already. "Yes. It happened when he – almost got hurt. It was too sudden, though, I mean, how could it be real?"  
  
"Feelings can change in intensity very quickly," his mother says. "Especially romantic feelings. There's usually some kind of catalyst that gives you a sort of – sudden clarity about how you feel about someone. Take your dad and me for example. We were just friends, you know, back in our hippie days. We were hiking with a group of people and I sprained my ankle. Everyone else was high, freaking out, making me anxious enough to cry, but your dad pushed them all out of the way and carried me on his back, all the way back to our camp. Before that, I liked him well enough but hadn't really given him much thought. But by the time we got back to the camp I couldn't wait to kiss him."  
  
"Ew," Ed says. "I mean. Thanks for that. But it's too fucking late, for me, I think. I – did some insensitive things, and now he's out on a date with another guy. He'll probably sprain his ankle and fall in love instantly and never think about me again."  
  
Ed's mother laughs. "You're so dramatic!" she says. "Eddie, if you think he has feelings for you – and, frankly, I strongly suspect that he does, based on the way he was looking at you yesterday – go out and tell him how you feel. Unless he already knows?"  
  
"He probably suspects," Ed says. "But – I've kept him in the dark about a lot of things. I guess I wasn't ready to deal with it."  
  
"Well, act like a grown-up, Eddie, you're almost twenty-five years old. Apologize for whatever it is you did, tell him how you really feel about him, and don't dawdle. He's a good-looking kid, and so sweet. I guarantee you, someone else will come along for him if you wait too long."  
  
Ed jumps up from his chair, panicked at the thought, then freezes.  
  
"Wait," he says, frowning down at his mom. "What am I supposed to do – crash his date?"  
  
She shrugs. "Yeah," she says. "I think so."  
  
"Now who's being dramatic?" Ed says, and she grins.  
  
"Eddie," she says. "He was really cute, and he was melting all over the kitchen counter every time you looked at him. If you want him, go get him."  
  
Ed bolts up the stairs, dreading what he has to do next, but he steels himself as he approaches Maggie's bedroom door. He knocks as loud as he can, trying to drown out the sound of squeaking bedsprings. He can hear gasps and frantic whispering inside, and he grits his teeth, trying to avoid any mental pictures.  
  
"Guys," he says. "It's me. I need to ask you something."  
  
More frantic whispers, some shuffling, and when the door opens, Harry pokes his head out and frowns. Ed has to look away, one glimpse of Harry's messed-up hair and flushed face more than he wanted to see.  
  
"Ed, what the fuck?" Harry says. "We're kind of –"  
  
"Don't say busy," Ed says, holding his hand over his face. "Just don't say it. I, ah, was just wondering if either of you knows where Corbett was going on his date?"  
  
"Are you for real?" Harry says after a pause. "Why?"  
  
"Are you going to go after him?" Maggie asks, her face appearing beside Harry's. She's grinning, equally flushed and messy-haired, and Ed groans, looking away again.  
  
"Yeah," he says. "I think I am, actually."  
  
"Oh, Ed! That's great, I – I really think you should, he seemed so sad. He was going to the movies, the seven o'clock showing of _Poltergeist_ at the old theater downtown, you know, the one that does the classic horror movies on Wednesdays?"  
  
"The guy's taking Corbett to a horror movie? About _ghosts_?" Ed squawks, so upset by this idea that he turns to Harry and Maggie without thinking, jerking his eyes away again when he sees that Harry is nuzzling Maggie's cheek, already disinterested in this conversation.  
  
"Corbett is totally not ready for that," Ed says, heading for the stairs.  
  
"Go rescue your damsel in distress, Zeddmore," Harry calls.  
  
"Shut up, Harry!"  
  
Ed jogs down the stairs and grabs his keys, then the doorknob, thinking about Corbett in the dark of a movie theater, trying to pretend everything is fine while his heart pounds, wanting to leave, wanting Ed.  
  
"Eddie?" his mom calls before he can make it out the door.  
  
"Yeah?" He really doesn't have time for any more homespun advice, no matter how good it is. His mom pokes her head out from the kitchen doorway and frowns.  
  
"Did you say – is Harry here?"  
  
"Uh. Gotta go, Mom!"  
  
He flings himself out the door and into the van. Maggie and Harry can handle this without him. He has his own tumultuous love life to see to.  
  
*  
  
It's after eight o'clock by the time Ed reaches the theater, and the ticket vendor looks at him like he's crazy when he asks for a ticket to the seven o'clock showing of _Poltergeist_ , not the nine o'clock showing. For all he knows, he's way too late, Corbett already in there making out with some experienced gay guy who knows what he's doing, healing him in a way that Ed couldn't manage to. But he's all worked up now, and he wants to carry Corbett home on his back, and to kiss him when they get there.  
  
The theater is dark, and the movie has already reached the part where Carol Ann's mother is screaming at her, telling her not to go into the light. It's not crowded, and once Ed's eyes adjust he's able to spot only two sets of men who are sitting together, one of them a pair of high-school aged kids sitting in the back, laughing at something they're reading from an iPhone, and the other two up in the fourth row. As Ed walks closer, he recognizes Corbett's hair, and that feeling of satisfaction – looking for Corbett and finding him, safe – lifts him off the ground. The guy sitting next to Corbett doesn't look like anything special, and Ed cranes his neck to see his face as he creeps down the aisle to sit beside Corbett.  
  
Corbett's date notices him first, and sits forward a little to frown. He's blond with glasses – glasses, Corbett has a glasses fetish, almost definitely because of Ed! – and he looks kind of stuck-up, and too skinny. Corbett turns when he sees his date looking down the aisle, and his eyes bug out in a way that makes Ed a little uncomfortable in this lighting, with all the horrified screaming in the background and everything. He hurries to Corbett's side and presses up against him. Corbett rears back, his mouth falling open.  
  
"Ed?" he says. His surprised look fades to an angry one, and his date just seems confused.  
  
"You know this guy, Alan?" he asks, whispering. Ed scoffs at the use of Corbett's first name. Amateur.  
  
"Uh, yeah," Corbett says. "This is my friend – Ed, what you are doing here?"  
  
"I need to talk to you," Ed says.  
  
"Ed – oh, _Ed_ , this is the famous Ed?" Corbett's date says. "Dude, he's spent the whole fucking night talking about you." The guy stands up and shakes his head. "Fucking – enjoy each other. I'm out of here."  
  
"Wait –" Corbett says, but he doesn't sound like he means it, and when he turns back to Ed, his blush his visible even in the glow from the movie screen. "Great, Ed," he hisses, and someone a few rows back shushes him. Corbett dips down further in his seat, putting his hand over his face, groaning.  
  
"What did you tell him about me?" Ed asks, so puffed up by the fact that Corbett speaks of him at all, to anyone, that he feels like he could float up to the ceiling.  
  
"I was complaining about you, mostly," Corbett says, glaring at him. "And how shitty it is to have feelings for a straight guy who enjoys torturing you by leading you on. So what the hell do you want now?"  
  
"Corbett," Ed whispers. He tries to press his face to Corbett's, but Corbett backs away, looking at him like he's crazy. Ed settles for grabbing Corbett's wrist, and he doesn't try to pull free, just stares at Ed, waiting for an explanation.  
  
"You're really cute when you get angry," Ed says. "You know? You should do it more often. Especially when it comes to me. We both know I fucking deserve it."  
  
There are more hisses of _'shhh!'_ as Corbett continues to stare at Ed, frozen in place, his mouth hanging open. Ed half expects him to just lean forward and kiss him hard, and when Corbett yanks free and flings himself out of his seat, heading toward the exit, Ed is too stunned to move for a moment. When he regains his bearings he follows, running after Corbett, who walks straight through the movie theater lobby and out into the parking lot.  
  
"Corbett, wait!" Ed says, chasing him down to the end of the sidewalk that circles the theater. It's a stand-alone building on an access road across from a shopping center, and the parking lot is filled with cars but otherwise empty, all of the seven o'clock showings still running. Corbett sits on the end of the side walk and puts his head in his hands, breathing hard, covering his eyes with his palms.  
  
"That guy was my fucking ride," he says as Ed sits down beside him, panting.  
  
"Fuck, I'm out of shape," Ed says. He bumps his shoulder against Corbett's, and Corbett leans away. He folds his arms over his knees and hides his face.  
  
"Don't cry," Ed says, slipping an arm around him. Corbett bucks him off and looks up to glare at him.  
  
"I'm not crying," he says, and it's true. "God, you think you've got me all figured out, huh? Like I'm just this dopey sap who'd do anything for you? Guess what, Ed: I would have kicked your ass in high school. But I hated being that guy, it wasn't making me happy. I wanted to try to be – nice, and thoughtful, and I didn't want to hide the real reason I picked on guys like you."  
  
"The reason?" Ed says, leaning closer. He's not dissuaded, mostly because of what his mom said about Corbett melting for him. His mom is rarely wrong about anything, and it's usually one of his least favorite things about her, but when she's on his side, it gives him a kind of strength that nothing else can.  
  
"The reason," Corbett says. His eyes are still narrowed, but he's not backing away now, Ed's nose just half an inch from his. "The reason is that – I wanted those guys – the ones I really got after – I, I wanted them to be my little, you know. Boyfriends."  
  
"Little?" Ed says, raising his eyebrows. "I'm, like, barely an inch shorter than you."  
  
Corbett smiles. "Yeah, well," he says, muttering. Ed leans closer, touching his nose to Corbett's, his heart pounding.  
  
"Is it different?" Ed asks, peeking up into Corbett's eyes, afraid to really look at him until he does, and remembers that Corbett loves him so much that when Ed told him that he loved him back, it had curse-breaking power, something that reached out and bitch-slapped a whole other plane of existence.  
  
"Is what different?" Corbett asks. He rubs his nose against Ed's, and Ed's eyes close slowly, his heart beating hard but not fast. He feels calm, safe.  
  
"Kissing a guy," Ed says. He opens his eyes again. "Is it – different?"  
  
"It's so much better," Corbett says, almost whining the words out, so eager to show him.  
  
"Hey, homos!" someone shouts, and they both look up to see some teenage kids walking from the movie theater, three guys, sneering with laughter. "Get a fuckin' room, this isn't a gay brothel."  
  
Ed feels like crawling into a hole and dying of embarrassment, though he's also pretty pissed off that some dumbass kids just ruined the moment. Corbett stands up, and Ed does, too, thinking they're going to run to Ed's truck before this altercation erupts into violence, but Corbett doesn't head for the van, just walks toward the kids, who shrink a little bit when they see the size of him.  
  
"What was that?" Corbett says, and two of the three start to walk away, but the shouter, a skinny kid in a black t-shirt and jeans, stands his ground, probably hoping to impress his friends.  
  
"I said, faggots need to be fags together behind closed doors," he says. His friends laugh and whoop, but they sound kind of nervous now.  
  
"Oh yeah?" Corbett is standing two inches away from the kid now. They're about the same height, but the kid looks like a twig compared to Corbett. He takes a step back.  
  
"Is that why you and your fuck buddies are leaving?" Corbett asks. "To get behind a closed door?"  
  
"Fuck you," the kid says. "Go suck your boyfriend's dick and get out of my face."  
  
Ed isn't sure why, but he really didn't think Corbett would hit the kid, and when he does, the cracking sound of Corbett's fist connecting with the kid's jaw makes Ed and the kid's friends let out 'oohs!' of automatic sympathy. The kid crumples to the pavement, hissing and holding his hand to his jaw. Corbett takes one look at the other two and they bolt. He sniffs and puts his shoe against the kid's ribs, giving him a shove with his foot, more of an insult than an injury.  
  
"Mind your own business, you little shit," he says. He walks back toward Ed, who finds himself suddenly kind of terrified of Corbett. The time for kissing seems to have passed, and he leads Corbett toward the van, his hands shaking when he unlocks it.  
  
"So," he says when they've been driving for awhile, Corbett still seething and silent in the passenger seat, Ed with both hands on the wheel, driving like a little old lady and jumping in his seat every time a car pulls up next to them at a red light, afraid those punks will try to mess with them again. "Um. Were you gonna kiss me?"  
  
"Ed." Corbett shuts his eyes and sighs. He looks over at Ed, his face softening. "You still want to?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
Corbett tells him where to go, which turns to take. Ed has never made out in the van before, and he wouldn't have known where to park. He doesn't ask about who Corbett might have brought here before once they arrive, in the somewhat secluded parking lot of a closed drycleaning place, close enough to the main road to hear the traffic, not the kind of place that brings to mind psychos with hooks for hands. Corbett crawls into the back and Ed follows his lead, still shaking.  
  
"You really want to do this?" Corbett asks, leaning back against some of their equipment while Ed sits on his knees, waiting to know what to do. He nods.  
  
"I really do," he says.  
  
"Then get in my lap."  
  
Ed hesitates. This is the thing he's always been afraid of, this moment. He was afraid even with the girls, though his reasons for hesitating then were different. He was afraid of disappointment, and not really knowing what to do, having no natural sense of direction in that area. Now, he's afraid that this will either feel the same way that did, or that the top of his head will blow off. Based on the fact that he already has an erection just from hearing Corbett order him to get into his lap, he's leaning toward the latter, but that doesn't make it any less terrifying.  
  
"Just," Ed says as he straddles Corbett's lap, feeling too exposed, and, yeah, kind of small, though physically he's not that much smaller. Corbett's hands slide up his back and pull him in closer, his eyes locked on Ed's and his mouth set in a line.  
  
"Stop thinking about it and do it," Corbett says. He sighs. "I mean. If you even really want to." He shakes his head like he's losing his patience. Ed can hardly blame him. He lets himself relax a little, growing accustomed to the feeling of Corbett's body between his legs, his hands spread across Ed's back.  
  
"I have to tell you something first," Ed says. He leans in and brushes his nose against Corbett's. They both sigh, eyes sliding shut, and Ed can smell the movie theater candy on Corbett's breath: Snow Caps, Twizzlers.  
  
"What, Ed?" Corbett asks. "You don't have to tell me how I died. I asked Harry. It – explained a lot. The neck thing."  
  
"The neck thing," Ed says. Corbett was right; Ed saw it differently than the others did. He won't ever be able to articulate how horrible it was, not even to Corbett himself. He touches the hollow of Corbett's throat with two careful fingers, feels him swallow. "Did – did he also tell you what really happened to Daggett?"  
  
"What really happened?" Corbett goes tense. "What – what do you mean? Is he still out there, have you guys –"  
  
"No, no. God, Corbett. I'd never lie to you about something like that. No – it's, it's just the _way_ we got rid of Daggett. I told you – we all told you – that Dean shot him with those salt bullets, but, um. It was more complicated than that."  
  
"More complicated like how?" Corbett frowns and sits back. Ed doesn't like it, any amount of distance between them, that's been the problem all along. He scoots forward a little, shifting in Corbett's lap, and touches the tip of his nose to Corbett's again. Corbett takes a deep breath and lets it out, his hands moving down to Ed's hips.  
  
"There was the echo," Ed says. "You dying, over and over, and all we could do was stand there and watch. Then Harry, he had this idea, that I could bring you back to yourself, snap you out of it, because – well, he thought you had feelings for me. So I walked over to the echo, and I was trying to get through to you, to get your attention, and nothing was really working, and I was fucking – freaking out, blubbering and crying like an idiot while I watched you die, and the only thing that worked, the thing that got your – the illusion's – attention, was, um. That I told you I loved you."  
  
Corbett just sits there frowning slightly, then raises his eyebrows as if he's waiting for more. Ed moans. He presses his face to Corbett's neck, and suspects that it will never get old, taking comfort in the clean heat of his skin, just there, right over the point of his pulse.  
  
"I think it came true or something," Ed says, keeping his voice quiet, still hiding his face. "As soon as I said it – you – you looked at me, and it was _you_ Corbett, I don't know how to explain it, it was some piece of you that the ghost had pulled out. And, and you disappeared, and Sam Winchester told us that you appeared down in the bomb shelter, and it was you who kicked that ghost's ass, who saved all of us. Only, you know, the real you, your body, was lying there on the ground next to Sam, still unconscious." Ed sits up and pouts a little, waiting for Corbett to react. He doesn't look angry about the lie, or frustrated with confusion the way Ed has been since this happened. He's looking at Ed's mouth.  
  
"That's what I keep dreaming about," Corbett says. "That we're back in that house, and you're telling me that you love me. And I believe it, in the dream, but then when I wake up I know it can't be true."  
  
"You don't know that," Ed says. He lowers his mouth over Corbett's, can feel his breath, the heat between his lips. When Corbett kisses him it's soft, just a test, and he pulls back to look up into Ed's eyes again. Ed kisses him back just as tentatively, and it's nothing like what he's done before, frantic slobbering to hide his anxiety or inexperience. His lips buzz in every place where Corbett's have touched them, and he wants more of it, so he kisses him again, and again, a little more firmly each time. Corbett lets out a shaky breath and pushes one hand up under Ed's shirt, making him shiver as he strokes his fingers up Ed's spine.  
  
"Yeah," Ed whispers, and Corbett takes his chance to part Ed's lips with his tongue, both of them groaning when they lick against each other. Ed scoots forward, and Corbett pulls him closer, and it happens in the exact same instant, the moment when they both can't take it anymore, and suddenly they're kissing hard, moaning and panting and rubbing their tongues together. Ed can't wait any longer to mouth at Corbett's neck, and Corbett bucks up against him when he does, rubbing his erection against Ed's ass.  
  
"Fuck," Ed whispers, because, Jesus, does he like that a lot more than he expected to. He grinds down against Corbett, and his whole body sort of pulses when Corbett groans, his head tipping back and his hips working up against Ed again. Ed licks at Corbett's neck, bites and sucks and suddenly understands the point of hickeys, though he really doesn't want to leave a mark, not here on this perfect, untouched skin, so he pulls on the collar of Corbett's shirt until he's got access to the slope between his neck and shoulder, and focuses his efforts there, making Corbett curse and writhe.  
  
"Tell me," Ed says. He grabs Corbett's hand and brings it to his crotch. Corbett actually whimpers when he feels how hard Ed is for him, his eyebrows arching. "Tell me – what you'd think about. When you thought about me."  
  
"W-what do you mean?"  
  
"I mean when you were jerking off." Ed blushes, but Corbett's pupils get so fat, and he knows he just struck gold. Corbett nods slowly, his fingers closing around the bulge between Ed's legs.  
  
"I – I thought about, um." Corbett's blush: Ed wants to lick it off his face, and he tries to, feeling crazed as Corbett rubs his cock through his pants. "About – sucking your dick, there in the basement, in the Ghostfacers meeting room, after everyone else had left."  
  
"Shit," Ed whispers. He moves to Corbett's ear, sucks it into his mouth, can't believe he never tried this before, not with another guy but with _Corbett_ , can't believe he even existed before he had this to make him feel alive. "More, tell me. Tell me how it went in your head."  
  
Corbett moans, embarrassed, and Ed reaches down to touch his dick through his pants, to offer inspiration. Corbett whines and nods, and Ed kisses him, never wants to stop, almost glad that he's never been kissed before, not like this.  
  
"Um," Corbett says, his lips moving against Ed's. "I – I'm cleaning up after the meeting, and you're on your computer, doing research, and suddenly you turn to me, and you look very serious, you know, almost kind of mean, and you say, 'Intern, get over here.'"  
  
"Yeah." Ed likes this already, and he rubs at Corbett's erection and down lower, finding the heat of his balls. Corbett shouts, nods, bucks up into his hand. "Keep going," Ed says.  
  
"I – I walk over, and you say, 'Get on your knees.' And I do it, because I know what you're going to ask, and I want it, Ed, I want it so much. You sort of – narrow your eyes a little, and spread your legs, and you say, 'Suck me off, intern. Swallow every drop.' I'm so, so ready to do it that I get all flustered as I open your jeans, and you sort of laugh, and Ed, you're so hard for me, and I moan when I see it, your cock pointed at my face."  
  
"Fuck." Ed can't take it anymore. He rips his jeans open and takes down the zipper, pulls out his cock, feeling none of the reservations he did when he showed it to the girls, just wanting it out, Corbett's hand around it. He gets that quickly, and throws his head back, hissing out a thousand exhilarated curses as Corbett begins to stroke him, skin to skin. "Keep going," he says again, whining the words out.  
  
"I, um, oh, _Ed_ , yeah – I lick you sort of timidly, because I've never done it before, but you're so impatient, you love the way my mouth feels, so you p-put your hand on the back of my head and push me down, and you make me take it, and I just, fight my gag reflex, because I want to make you feel good, and you're moaning and I love it, I want you to lose your shit and fuck my mouth, then you do, your hips start twitching and you're holding me in place, grunting and everything, and your cock is so fucking hard in my mouth, and I'm drooling for it, my chin is all wet –"  
  
Ed comes with a scream that's some non-word combination of _fuck_ and Corbett's name. He falls forward against Corbett's chest when he does, still groping at his dick, and when Corbett pushes up on his ass, Ed knows what he's doing, and nods. This is what he's wanted, being with another guy, the urgency and the familiar territory, this telepathic understanding, though really he doesn't think it would have been like this with anyone but Corbett, that he would have unlocked this vulnerable part of himself without everything that happened, the good and the bad. When Corbett takes his cock out Ed pulls at it eagerly, cursing when he feels how big it is, how hot. They kiss for awhile, and Ed can feel Corbett swell, he knows that feeling, and fucking loves recognizing it on someone else, on this boy he loves.  
  
"Ed," Corbett cries, the single syllable of his name broken on Corbett's lips. When Corbett comes over his fingers Ed whispers _fuck yeah, fuck_ and kisses him, licks his blushing cheeks, feels like the top of his head has not only blown off but left the atmosphere, never to return. He's glad; he can live without it. He puts his head against Corbett's shoulder and just breathes hard for awhile, sated and sleepy, Corbett's arms winding around him.  
  
"Why do you even like me?" Ed asks, and Corbett laughs.  
  
"'Cause your glasses are all fogged up," he says, grinning and helping Ed rub them clear. "And 'cause your mom calls you 'Eddie.' And 'cause, I don't know. During my interview, when I told you that I saw the flyer you put up at the mall and thought, 'huh: where do ghosts come from?', Harry looked at me like I was nuts, but you grinned, and, ah, it was just – kinda funny, because." He laughs. "Because I only went to look at the flyer 'cause I saw you putting it up. 'Cause I thought you were cute."  
  
"You have a glasses fetish," Ed says, mumbling, feeling close to falling asleep like this, against Corbett's chest.  
  
"No way," Corbett says. "Or, anyway. I didn't, before I met you."  
  
They slump to the floor of the van, spreading out on a couple of empty duffel bags, comfortable enough with the moon glowing through the van's back windows. They kiss and talk for a long time, getting each other hard again, rubbing it out slow this time, Ed watching Corbett's face closely when he comes, Corbett watching Ed's. They're sticky and tired and the van smells like sex, and Ed has never ever been close to this kind of happiness before, not once in his entire life.  
  
"Tell me about more of your fantasies," he says when he starts to fall asleep, because he doesn't want to sleep, even though he knows, with Corbett close like this, he wouldn't have nightmares. Corbett laughs.  
  
"The rest of them are cheesy," he says.  
  
"Yeah? Like what?"  
  
Corbett moans in complaint but kisses Ed, rubbing his nose against Ed's, smitten, gorgeous in this light, his tanned skin sort of glowing in the moonlight. Ed feels drunk, and never wants to leave this place, this moment, the first time in his life when he feels like he understands every stupid love song, every dramatic euphemism for romance, the flowery poetry he had to read in high school: everything, everything.  
  
"Well," Corbett says, laughing at himself. "There's a continuation of the blow job one, actually."  
  
"Oh, yeah?" Ed scoots in closer, and hugs Corbett to him though it's hot in the van, the windows fogged. "Tell me."  
  
"Well, um. Okay. After I blow you and everything, and swallow – ha, and look up at you, I'm expecting you to say something like, 'alright, intern, thanks.' But you're, like, 'Corbett,' really soft and impressed, and you pull me up and kiss me, and we sort of, um, migrate over to the couch, and I guide you down onto it, and. Ed, shit, are you really going to make me say it?"  
  
"Yeah, 'cause, listen." Ed beams. "That first morning, when you went to the career center? I, um, spent most of the afternoon with my nose buried in the sheets on that couch. 'Cause, you know. They smelled like you. So, there. You can't be embarrassed now."  
  
Corbett grins, kisses him and moans into his mouth. "Ed," he says, whispering, his eyelashes brushing against Ed's. "Okay, fine. I put you down on the couch, and you're all relaxed, 'cause you just came in my mouth, and we kiss for a long time, and you tell me, 'Corbett, please,' and I just know exactly what you mean, and I nod, and there's lube, somehow, and, shit. Do you want to hear the rest?"  
  
"Fuck, yes." There's no reason to treat him like an innocent: Ed has been a connoisseur of anime pornography since middle school. Few things will surprise him.  
  
"Well, I, um, I'm really careful with you, and you're all – appreciative of this, and moaning, and kissing me, and sort of – trembling. And when I'm finally, um, inside you, we're both kind of stunned by how good it feels, and how – _right_ , and – _mmph_."  
  
Ed kisses him so he won't have to continue, both of them blushing hard now. Part of Ed wants to do it right here in the van, with their Ghostfacers equipment gathered around them, and the moonlight, and the taste of candy on Corbett's tongue, but they only get as far as Corbett climbing on top of Ed before they're both grinding out another orgasm.  
  
"Fuck," Corbett huffs, his eyes closed against Ed's cheek. "I've wanted this for so long."  
  
"Me, too," Ed says, and Corbett laughs, but it's true. Not only have the past two days been packed with two years worth of frustrated longing, he's wanted this for a long time, the kind of sex those anime characters were having on his computer, panted breath and sweat-slick skin, the air around them full of little _ah!_ s and _ngh!_ s and _hahh_ s. He's wanted to feel it that much, this much, to never want to stop kissing, to never want to let go.  
  
They listen to Coast to Coast AM on the drive home, and the subject is vampires. After what they've been through, vampires seem cheerful, and they laugh at the callers who are clearly crazy, claiming that they drink blood.  
  
"You think Sam and Dean would ever call in to this show?" Corbett asks.  
  
"I don't know," Ed says. "If I'm honest, I don't really care about finding them all that much. I think I might be done with looking for trouble."  
  
"So no more ghost hunting?" Corbett asks. He actually sounds sad, and the prospect of quitting makes Ed sad, too. He shrugs.  
  
"What I'm thinking is this," he says. He came up with the idea in the aftermath of his third orgasm, while Corbett was kissing his face. "Instead of ghost hunters, we become ghost busters."  
  
"Seriously?"  
  
"Yeah, seriously. Lots of people think they live in haunted houses, don't they? We could go in with our cameras and do a thorough investigation, try to help them. And, you know. Charge a fee."  
  
Corbett laughs. "Yeah," he says. "I think I'd like that more than law school."  
  
"Plus, we'd be helping people. So it wouldn't be like we were just running blind into abandoned buildings, putting ourselves in harm's way. The families would, like, serve us dinner after we shot our introductory footage."  
  
"Maybe the show could be less about scares and more about the families," Corbett says. "You know, in a roundabout way? Like ghost hunting with a human twist."  
  
"A human twist," Ed says, grinning. "Yeah. That's our specialty."  
  
They're both excited about the idea by the time they get back to Ed's house, talking out the details. The thunderstorm that has been looming all day is getting louder, lightning splitting the sky over Ed's cul-de-sac. He's kind of ridiculously excited about the fact that he'll be able to wrap around Corbett in bed when the rain comes, and they hurry to get his things out of the car.  
  
"You didn't even unpack at Harry's house?" Ed says as they carry Corbett's bags to the door.  
  
"I, uh." Corbett gives him the kind of shy little smile that shouldn't be possible between two people whose jeans are stained with each other's come. "I was kind of hoping you'd come after me."  
  
Ed kisses Corbett's neck before opening the door. He's half expecting chaos, his parents shouting at Maggie for wasting her time with Harry, but instead he finds the two of them cuddling on the living room couch together, Maggie asleep on Harry's shoulder.  
  
"I see you have retrieved Corbett," Harry says, and he salutes, for some reason. Ed laughs.  
  
"Yeah. Did you two get caught?"  
  
"Um, yes. But I think it's going to be okay. Your mother and I had a long talk. We cried. Dr. Bederman was on speaker phone at one point."  
  
"That's – that's great, Harry."  
  
"In fact, she kind of invited me to live here after I poured my heart out about my issues with my step-father," Harry says, and Ed raises his eyebrows. Sharing the hall bathroom with Harry, Maggie, and Corbett could get interesting, but he's really too tired to worry about it now.  
  
"We're heading up to bed," Ed says, pointing to the stairs with his thumb. Harry smirks.  
  
"We?" he says.  
  
"Don't make fun," Ed says. "Seriously. Corbett will kick your ass."  
  
"I will," Corbett says, nodding, and he shoots Harry a friendly smile when Harry blanches. "Though I'd prefer not to, if it's all the same to you. Might make living in the same house kind of awkward."  
  
"Hey," Harry says, holding up his hand. "As long as you guys don't make loud sex noises, I'm cool."  
  
"Back 'atcha," Ed says. Maggie stirs and sits up, blinking groggily.  
  
"Sex noises?" she says, muttering.  
  
"Go back to sleep, babe," Harry says, patting her back, and she does, moaning a little.  
  
Ed takes Corbett up to his room and makes space for him in some of his dresser drawers, happily flustered by the sight of Corbett's y-front briefs next to his boxer shorts. He changes into a clean pair of boxers and climbs into bed, tossing his glasses onto the bedside table as the rain begins outside, thunder rattling the windowpanes.  
  
"You look so cute without your glasses," Corbett says when he slides into bed beside Ed, wearing nothing but a fresh pair of y-fronts. They both moan as they wrap around each other, skin to skin, legs tangling under the blankets.  
  
"I thought you had a glasses fetish," Ed says. He's licking at Corbett's neck,will probably never break himself of the habit. "'Cause of me."  
  
"I do like them," Corbett says. "But I'll always associate you without your glasses with you sleepwalk-cuddling me, so. I guess I have a non-glasses fetish now, too."  
  
"I think the two can reasonably co-exist," Ed says, and Corbett nods, kissing him, his hands everywhere, sliding across Ed's back and down to grope his ass.  
  
"We should sleep," Ed whispers into Corbett's mouth, because it's going to be so good, waking up when the rain blasts the windows, finding himself in Corbett's arms and letting himself stay there.  
  
"Totally," Corbett whispers back, his hand sliding under the waistband of Ed's boxers to squeeze his bare ass.  
  
Eventually, they sleep. Twice, Ed wakes up in the middle of the night, and both times, he finds the heat of Corbett's neck, buries his face against it, and falls asleep again. He has one dream about the Morton house, but this time Corbett is with him, and they aren't separated.  
  
"Ed!" Corbett says in the dream, when things are beginning to get frightening, loud noises coming from the second floor. "Look, the front door, it's open. We can just leave."  
  
And they do.  
  
*  
  
Three years later, at Maggie and Harry's actual wedding, Ed is the best man, but Corbett doesn't bring Rice Krispie squares. He's an usher, standing right behind Ed at the altar, looking so good in his tux that he and Ed have already had sex twice today, once in their apartment just after they'd both gotten dressed and later in an empty preschool classroom in the church where Harry and Maggie are now saying their vows. Ed is feeling kind of proud about the church thing while he zones out during the vows, leaning back until his elbow brushes Corbett's arm.  
  
A lot of things have worked out, and a lot of things haven't: the show about ghost busting and haunted families hasn't exactly generated a lot of industry buzz, but they still have fun making it, though they have to keep part-time jobs as well, Ed at Office Depot and Corbett waiting tables at Chili's. Corbett's general loveability generates good tips, and sometimes they let him deejay trivia night. His mother eventually came around and she's even been out to dinner with Ed and Corbett, but Corbett's father still won't speak to him. It helps that he's close to Ed's family, and they have Thanksgiving and Christmas at the Zeddmore household every year.  
  
They won't be able to dance at the reception without causing a scene among Harry's redneck relatives, which is okay by Ed, who hates dancing, though it also kind of makes him sad, because Corbett likes it. Still, it's an excuse to sneak off together and have more tuxedo-clad sex, and they find an empty event room on the second floor of the reception hall. Ed hops up onto a sturdy-looking buffet table and Corbett falls onto him, flattening him against it with kisses, already working on the front of his pants.  
  
"Listen," Ed says, as Corbett pushes up his shirt and presses hot kisses to his stomach.  
  
"Hmm?" Corbett says. He leans up to rub his nose against Ed's jaw. Even after three years together, he can't get enough of Ed's beard.  
  
Ed laughs, and he puts his finger over Corbett's lips to still him for a moment and make sure he's really hearing what he thinks he's hearing. He is, and he grins.  
  
"Fireworks," he says. "I knew it."


End file.
